


A Study in Experiences

by Boxerwing



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Exhibitionism, Gay Sex, Good BDSM etiqette, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boxerwing/pseuds/Boxerwing
Summary: Join Morgan and Langston as they start a relationship together; growing, building and learning.





	1. A Simple Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> This work began as a way for me to learn and explore how to write sex scenes, starting with what interested me and going from there. Somehow, Morgan, Langston and the kingdom of Rancroft took on a life of their own, and here we are.
> 
> This is most definitely a sex-heavy story, explicit in the extreme. Eventually, there will be extensive scenes of BDSM, so buyer beware. BDSM is also explicitly mentioned in the first chapter, so give that one bit of writing a try to see if you want to continue.
> 
> Enjoy the ride.

Servant Bonus Day. It was the one day a year each palace servant could ask for money or an item of the Rancroft court and, as long as it was reasonable, their wish would be granted. Most servants asked for their bonus in coin, although some asked for a court-approved pendant that would permit them discounts at city stores, and some asked for clothing, jewellery or other items.

I wanted none of those things. I lived in the Servant Quarters and, although I didn’t own much, I wanted for nothing. Well, almost nothing. There was only one thing I truly wished for, and I knew that wish would never be granted so I never dare ask.

I wished to spend a night with Prince Langston.

Not only would it have been totally inappropriate for me, a servant, to ask for such a thing, I knew I was also not the Prince’s type. Yes, the Prince had bedded a number of servants, but they were all stunningly gorgeous and high-born. I was neither of those things. I was low-born, my hands were always red and chapped, my body was bone-thin, my face was average, and my back was starting to stay permanently curved due to the years I had spent on my knees hand-scrubbing the floors of the palace.

I let my eyes drift through the rows of servants around me in the Meeting Hall, gathered for this year's Servant Bonus Day. Prince Langston and his scribe were still quite a ways off, so I allowed myself the indulgence of daydreaming about the Prince.

I fell easily into one of my frequent fantasies. The Prince was at a gathering, and I was laying naked on a table next to him as he stood talking to his guests. He was not obviously focused on me, but his one hand was stroking my cock, and I knew that although he may not have appeared to be aware of my responses, he coordinated his hand to my arousal. I was fully aware he knew how close I would get to release because he would back his hand off my groin and pet my thighs and stomach for a few moments until my arousal subsided some. He would then continue to arouse me and back me off from release over and over, ordering me to hold my climax back, until I could take no more. He would then get his guests to collect around the table I was on, and bring me to release while all eyes were on me, his voice in my ear, urging me on and telling me how I was arousing his guests.

All of a sudden, I heard a subtle cough and I snapped my focus to the present. The scribe was pointedly looking at his clipboard, and the Prince was looking at me, a smirk on his face. I blushed red, and the scribe asked me what I wanted for a bonus.

“A pillow is my request,” I replied.

The Prince cocked up an eyebrow, the smirk remaining. “Is that all? A pillow? Is there nothing else you wish?”

“No, Sire.”

The smirk slid from his face. “Do you not have an adequate pillow? Will they not give you one from storage?”

“Oh, I do have a pillow, Sire. I would just like a down one; the feather ones supplied to me tend to poke me with quills.”

The Prince smiled. “Are you sure there is nothing else? Even the most decadent of pillows will come nowhere near the value of your yearly bonus allotment.”

“No, Sire.”

“Fine then. One down pillow for Master Morgan.”

“Thank you, Sire.” I focused my eyes to look directly at his green ones.

In an instant, I knew that he knew what I had been thinking about, and he was more than aware it wasn’t pillows. He twitched his eyebrows at me and smiled. I bowed, and he and the scribe continued on.


	2. More Than Just a Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple servant bonus grows into something all together different. And N.B.: the main characters are both well of age. There is NO underage anything going on in this story at all.

When I returned to my quarters that night, there was a note sealed with Prince Langston's Royal Mark laying on my kitchen table. It was clearly addressed to me, so I opened it.

_Master Morgan;_

_Your … bonus is in my office. I … you to come and pick it up no later than 7 .…_

_Truly;_

_Langston, Prince_

Well, that was certainly curious. I’d never had to pick up my bonus from the Prince himself any other year, but I certainly wasn’t going to complain about seeing him twice in one day. I rarely saw the Prince; perhaps once a week if I was lucky, and then only from a distance.

I cleaned myself up and changed clothing, and arrived at his office at five minutes to seven. The guards at his door permitted me to knock, and when the Prince called out to allow me entrance, they let me through.

The Prince was seated behind his desk and a large pillow in a dark green pillowcase wrapped with a red ribbon lay on the top.

“Master Morgan. It’s good to see you arrive early to appointments.” He had a smirk on his face like the one he had earlier.

I kneeled to him, my eyes focused on the carpet. “Yes, Sire.”

He rose from his chair and wandered around to the front of his desk, then leaned back on it; I could feel his eyes on me like a wave of heat. I stayed on one knee as I wasn’t permitted to stand until he gave me leave to do so.

“You spend too much time on your knees, Master Floor-scrubber, although you look rather handsome doing so.”

I blushed crimson. I was well aware that the Prince flirted with anyone, anywhere. He even flirted with old Mistress Janice, the plump, aged servant who ran the laundry with an iron hand. I knew what he was saying was him just being himself, so I couldn't take his comment personally, but his words still played on my soul.

“Thank you, Sire.”

He pushed off his desk, and walked a slow circle around me. He gently twirled one of my long, dark curls though his fingers, then released it as he stood in front of me. I knew if I lifted my eyes from their focus on the swirling pattern in the carpet, I would see the Prince’s groin directly in front of my face.

“You are quite sure, Master Morgan, that you wish to request nothing else for your yearly bonus? You have more than enough left to request something else…”

I shook my head. “No, Sire. There is nothing that I want that my remaining bonus allotment could buy.”

“Ah!” he said brightly. “Now we’re getting somewhere,”

I hadn’t meant to say that or to phrase things that way. The Prince was well known for being like a bloodhound on the scent of prey in the attempt to discover that which people did not want him to know.

“So,” he continued, “there is something you want that money cannot buy? Is that correct?”

I had to think fast. There was no way I was going to tell the Prince my desires, so I had to think of something that would fit the criteria. “Err, um, yes, Sire.” My mind searched desperately for an idea.

He tucked a finger under my chin, and lifted my head so my eyes were looking in to his. His eyes were so green…

“Tell me what you wish for, Master Morgan, that money cannot buy for you.”

The Prince was younger than me by a handful of years, but at that moment, it felt like he was the older, more mature man. My mind was racing a million miles an hour, but no idea came to me.

“I…” I stuttered.

“Yes? Please; continue.”

Even though he had bedded other servants, it could potentially mean my job if a superior of mine disapproved of me being with the Prince. I pulled my head from his fingertip and returned to looking at the floor. “I cannot say, Sire.”

“Cannot or will not?”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in and blew it out slowly. “Cannot, Sire.”

“Why? Is it illegal?”

“No, Sire.”

“Then if it is not illegal, you are required to tell me. As your Prince, I order you to tell me.”

I sighed quietly. “I do not want to be removed from the palace’s employ, Sire.”

“That risky?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Well, now, aren’t you interesting. Much more than I anticipated.”

He anticipated something of me? I didn’t think he was any more aware of me than one of the potted plants in his office: present but part of the background.

“Master Morgan, stand.”

I did as ordered as he returned to sit behind his desk.

“You want to sleep with me, am I correct?”

I swallowed, hard. Being close to the man of my desires made my brain so scattered that in the end, no alternative idea came to me. I bit my lip and nodded, but continued to avoid his gaze.

“That is most definitely not unappealing. But that’s not all, is it? When I have said the same to others, be they low-born or noble, all lifted their eyes to mine in reactions from astonishment to joy. You do not.”

I slowly shook my head no. I continued to nibble on my lip in nervousness and fear. The Prince didn’t sound upset or like he wanted to discharge me from his employ, which was a good thing, but he now knew some of my desires. I was unsure whether he would be able to guess the rest; I desperately hoped not as I did not want him to think me deviant.

Minutes passed, the loud ticking of a clock the only noise in the Prince’s office. I eventually heard rustling, like silk sliding over silk.

“Master Morgan, come and kneel in front of me.”

When I looked up, the pillow was gone from the desk, the ribbon laying untied and discarded in its place. I tentatively walked around the desk, and saw that the Prince had pushed his chair away from the desk, and the pillow was on the floor between his wide-spread legs. I didn’t want to assume anything, so I went to kneel on the floor instead of on the pillow.

“No, Master Morgan. Kneel on the pillow.”

I hesitated. Kneeling so close to the Prince would be like kneeling in front of the gates of heaven, but was so very improper.

“Now. Kneel.”

It was as if a key clicked open a lock in my brain, and I kneeled on the pillow, all hesitation fleeing me.

“Well done,” he said softly. He caressed my cheek with one hand, and I struggled hard to not lean my head into it. I closed my eyes, knowing if I were to open them and realize how close I was to the Prince’s groin, my arousal would be more than obvious, and I wanted to keep myself under control as much as possible considering the situation.

“You are a good servant, Morgan. You work hard, you are uncomplaining, and you are not disruptive. You follow orders to the best of your abilities, hmm?”

I nodded. I begged every god I knew that the Prince would not follow his line of thinking and connect them to my desires. “I have a good job here, and want to stay as long as possible. Being a good employee helps me stay.” I tried to move the topic away from me following orders to less mine-filled topics.

“But what if I ordered you to do something that was beyond the limits of what a good employee should do?”

“Such as?”

“Ordering you to undress me?”

“As a butler? Of course, Sire.”

“No, not as a butler. As a lover.”

I licked my lips, and it seemed that all I could do was answer with the truth. “I would do so, gladly.”

“What if I ordered you to suck my cock to release?”

My breath hitched and my eyes flew open. I swallowed; I now realized that I hadn’t deflected him and he knew. He knew I wanted him to order me around and not as the Prince, but as a bed-mate. He had a smirk again on his face; I could not lie to my Prince. “I would do so, gladly,” I finally replied, my cheeks starting to flush again.

“What if I ordered you to…hmm…prepare yourself to receive me?”

I didn’t understand what he was asking. “In what way, Sire?”

“You do not know what I ask?”

I shook my head no.

“Never mind that, then. Well, what if…I ordered you never touch your own cock except to pee? Would you hold off pleasing yourself for as long as I wished it?”

All the blood from my head went straight to my cock and left me with no thoughts in my brain and no way to speak. The Prince chuckled. “Ah, now we are getting close to what you cannot tell me, am I right?”

I nodded, and fear rose within me. Tears pooled in my eyes. If he kept asking questions, he would eventually find out what an unnatural pervert I was. No one I knew had ever mentioned the same desires as I did, so I knew what aroused me was not normal. And if the Prince knew about wanting him to order me around while others watched, then he would most definitely remove me from the palace.

“Why are you crying?” the Prince asked, concern in his eyes.

I just shook my head, sat on my heels, and cried into my hands.

“Master Morgan, you are worrying me. Please, tell me, what is wrong?”

“Please, Sire. I’m begging you; ask me no more questions.”

“Why not? You seemed to be enjoying my questions.”

I snapped my head up from my hands. “I should not be! I am…I mean… you’ll discover…and then you’ll remove me…and…”

“What are you saying? Why should you not like what I am asking?”

I bent low, my forehead on the toe of his boot. “Because it is not normal, Sire! I must be perverted to enjoy that you would order me around! I do not wish to be removed from the palace for having unnatural desires!” I sobbed.

The Prince bent over and pulled me to his chest. He rubbed my back and rocked me slowly until my sobbing slowed, then he released me and I returned to kneeling fully on the pillow. My heart was in my toes. I knew there was no way he’d keep me as a servant.

“Master Morgan, I beg you, look at me.” I wasn’t sure what to expect when I looked at him, but the concern and sorrow on his face took me by surprise. “Master Morgan, you are neither perverted nor have unnatural desires. I do not know who told you such things, but they should be shot full of holes.”

“No one has told me such things, Sire. It’s just, no one has desires like mine. No one speaks of desires like mine.”

The sorrow and concern were replaced by a soft understanding. “Master Morgan, many, many people have desires like yours.”

“They don’t!”

“What if I told you that I have desires that mirror yours? That my desires complement yours as their opposite? That I enjoy ordering people to do my bidding as I pleased?”

My brows furrowed into a frown. “I don’t understand.” I knew the Prince was a very sexual person, but I’d never heard that he was perverted like me.

He stood and held a hand out to me. “Come, let us sit together and talk as adults. This is much too complicated to discuss with you kneeling at my feet like a slave.”

I placed my hand in his, and he helped me up off the floor. He guided me gently to a lounging area, encouraged me to sit on the couch and rested carefully next to me.

“Master Morgan…”

“Just Morgan, Sire.”

“Morgan, then.” He gave me a smile. “Let’s start at the beginning, as I feel I am missing some important pieces of information. I promise, I will respect your privacy if you do not wish to answer any of my questions, but before you out and out refuse, let me try and explain why I am asking. Is that acceptable?”

I nodded.

“Can you tell me why you asked for a pillow for your yearly bonus?”

“As I said this morning, the pillows I have right now are feather-filled, and the quill tips poke me in the middle of night and wake me up.”

“For no other reason? Tell me honestly; I know of your desire to sleep with me.”

“Honestly, Sire. I just want a new down-filled pillow to sleep better at night. It’s hard to do a good job when I am overtired.”

The Prince leaned back and away from me, his arms spread out and supported by the back and arm rest of the sofa. He looked thoughtful, and I looked down into my hands, unsure of what to do or say.

“Tell me, Morgan, how many bed-mates have you had?”

I blushed.

“That many?” he asked softly, and I shook my head no.

“Look at me, Morgan.” I lifted my eyes to his, and saw uncertainty and confusion. “Are you saying that you’ve had no bed-mates? That you’re a…you’re a…virgin?”

“Yes, Sire,” I mumbled quietly.

“And your request for a pillow was just that? With no other meaning?”

I nodded.

“Oh, Gods. So when you said no one spoke to you about their desires…”

“I hear the gossip around the palace, Sire. I know who is sleeping with who, who is good in bed and who is not, who is easy to sleep with and who is a challenge…”

“But does anyone talk to you about their desires? Or ask you about yours?”

“No, Sire.”

“Why not? You’re handsome and available.”

I shrugged. “I am a floor-scrubber.”

“So?”

“I just assumed that it was because I was a low servant. When I once summoned the courage to ask someone on a date, they laughed at me.”

The Prince’s eyes narrowed at that. “So you’ve never even dated?”

I shook my head no.

“Been kissed?”

I shook my head no again.

“Gods,” he whispered softly. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Morgan, may I ask you a few questions about your desires? The ones you believe ‘unnatural’?”

“Why?” I couldn’t believe he’d actually want to know about that.

“Because I’m interested in you. Very interested in you. Especially with the way you reacted to me ordering you to not touch your cock.”

“Really?” I was stunned. “This is not some kind of, umm, trap?”

He smiled gently. “Sincerely, this is no trap. Now I want you to answer, thinking about me as a bed-mate and not the Prince, okay?”

I nodded; imagining him as a bed-mate would be the easiest thing I had done that day.

“Now, what if I ordered you to arouse yourself close to orgasm then not allow you to come?”

I blushed because, in truth, that sounded amazing. “I would follow that order. As best as I could, Sire.”

“Stop with the ‘Sire’ for now. So, what if I ordered you to…fuck another person?”

I didn’t want that; I wanted the Prince or no one. “I…”

“It’s fine, Morgan. I can tell by your face that doesn’t appeal. And that’s okay; it’s not something I would desire you to do anyway.”

“Then why ask?”

“No one person’s desires are the same as another’s.”

“But you said our desires were mirror images.”

“I did, but I still want to know about you from you, not what I think you might like. Understand?”

I nodded.

“What if I ordered you to…be a footstool for me?”

I thought a moment. I would do it for the Prince, but after being on my knees all day, kneeling more did not sound appealing. “Sire, not to offend, but I already kneel a lot, and…”

“Ah, yes, I understand. What about if I ordered you to bathe me or give me a back rub?”

The thought of taking care of the Prince made me feel warm inside. “I would follow those orders, gladly.”

“I thought you might say that, the way you smiled. Okay now, some different situations. I’m not ordering you to do anything, okay? These questions are just about if the ideas are appealing or not.”

“Okay.”

“Spanking.”

“Spanking what?”

“Me. Spanking you.”

“Like you would a misbehaving child?”

“Yes.”

“I, err, I don’t know?”

“Fair enough. Whips? Floggers?”

“Gods, no whips! And I don’t know what a flogger is, but if is like a whip…”

“It provides a different feeling than a whip, and some prefer one over the other.”

“Then no, no flogger. I don’t want to hurt!”

“Ah, okay. Well, that shortens things down a bit. What if I tied you down so you couldn’t touch me or yourself?”

Gods, I’d never thought of that, but allowing him to please me or himself however he wished without me allowing to touch sounded incredible.

“Let me guess, that sounds okay?”

“Err, um, yes.” I had to blush that he could read my thoughts so easily.

“What if…I covered your eyes, your face or muffled your ears?”

I tried hard to imagine those situations, but I couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

“Good to know. Okay, now, let’s see. What about sex outside?”

“Like in the woods?”

“Sure.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Now, what about if there was a chance someone could see us having sex…somewhat accidentally? Say a park?”

I blushed hard. “Perhaps…”

“That sounds more like a ‘yes’ than a ‘perhaps’.”

I nodded, and I felt ashamed.

“Look at me, Morgan.” I looked into his eyes. “You were smiling when I asked about being outside together, but now you look uncomfortable.”

“I shouldn’t want…” I blushed again, and broke eye contact with him and looked at my hands in my lap.

“Why shouldn’t you?”

I shrugged. I just couldn’t tell him how ashamed I felt.

“Am I getting close to things you want to do, but don’t think you should do?”

I couldn’t even respond; I didn’t know what or how to say it. The Prince was quiet for what seemed like an eternity.

“You know what, Morgan?”

“What, Sire?”

“There are people who like to watch others have sex.”

I nearly gave myself whiplash looking up to him. “No!”

“Yes. Does doing that appeal?”

I shook my head no.

“Okay, then. Now, there are some people who enjoy it when others watch them have sex.”

I’d never heard of such a thing; I couldn’t believe others like me existed. “You must be lying!”

“Why would I lie? I have no reason to do so.”

I felt so confused.

“Is that something you would like?” the Prince asked softly.

“I…. I….”

“Please, Morgan. There is nothing wrong with liking or wanting that. It’s no more shameful than any other sex act between consenting adults.”

“It’s not sex, not really. It’s….”

“If it’s not sex, then what is it? Having people watch you shit or piss in public?”

I shuddered. “No, not that.”

“Then what?”

I couldn’t tell him. I just…couldn’t.

“How about this. Instead of me trying to guess, how about I describe a situation, and you help me narrow it down, hmm?”

I nodded carefully. I doubted he’d ever be able to guess anyway.

“You and I are in public. Are we both naked?”

I shook my head no and blushed.

“Just you?”

I nodded.

“Okay. Are we alone, or in a group?”

“Group,” I managed to whisper.

“Excellent. Do we know these people or are they strangers?”

“You know them.”

“So friends, or acquaintances at least. Hmm, a safe, consensual audience. So what are we doing there?”

“It’s a party, or a meeting of some sort.”

“Okay, good. Are we standing? Sitting?”

“You’re standing, I’m laying down.”

“Where? On the floor?”

“No, table. Gods, I can’t…this is so strange…”

“Trust me, Morgan, this is one of the least strange things I’ve heard.”

“No! It can’t be.”

“This is not strange at all. Someday, I’ll tell you stories about things I’ve seen and participated in. What you are describing is positively tame.”

“It cannot be so!”

“Of course it can. Infinite people have infinite imaginations to think up and be aroused by infinite sexual situations. Okay? Please, just trust me on this and let’s keep going.”

I frowned but nodded.

“So, we’re at a party or a meeting of some sort with people I know. You’re naked and lying on a table and I’m standing…where?”

“Next to me.”

“What am I doing?”

“Talking to people.”

The Prince frowned. “Okay, now I’m a bit confused. You’re naked on a table next to me, and I’m not paying attention to you?”

I shook my head. “No, you are but you aren’t.”

The Prince sighed in obvious frustration. “Please, Morgan, I’m begging you. Please, help me understand. I don’t understand.”

I could only watch my hands twist in my lap. “You’re talking to people, but your hand is...on me. And even though it looks like you’re ignoring me, we both know you’re really not.” I peeked up slightly, expecting to see horror or disgust. Instead, what I saw surprised me; the Prince’s face was filling with a huge smile and undeniable lust.

“Ah, I think I’m starting to see now. I’m pleasuring you, but taking care of our guests too. I’m using you, having you out in the open for all to see, looking like I don’t care about you as my possession, when actually, we’re deeply connected. I’m aware that you are enjoying what I’m doing to you while ignoring you at the same time. Would you enjoy, or would it feel shameful and that’s why you’re enjoying?”

“I would enjoy. No shame.” However, I did blush in shame right then.

“Don’t feel shame for imagining this situation. I’m rather aroused and intrigued by what you’re describing; it’s not something I’ve thought of, but I certainly am very interested in what I’m hearing so far. Please, Morgan, tell me more. Make me imagine I’m there with you.”

I closed my eyes; the Prince hadn’t mocked me or dismissed me as a pervert, and I thought perhaps I could try and describe my fantasy to him.

“You’d know me so well, you’d know when I was getting close, and you’d stop touching me, then start up again when the moment passed. You’d do that over and over, and you’d whisper to me that I wasn’t allowed to come until you said I could. When I didn’t think I could take it anymore, you get the guests around the table, and they’d watch you tell me to enjoy it and finally permit me to come and they’d be so aroused. You’d be so proud; I did exactly as you wanted and you were so happy our guests were so aroused, and I’d feel so good you were proud of me…”

"Shit." The Prince grabbed my hand, placed it in his crotch and my eyes flew open. “Morgan, that was incredibly arousing and creative. See what just you talking about it has done to me?” I felt heat rolling from his groin, and his penis was hard as stone.

I carefully pulled my hand away. My own cock was throbbing in sympathy; I had just described one of my favourite fantasies to the man I'd always wished I could share it with.

“Now what, Sire?”

“What do you wish, Master Morgan?”

“What I wish for, I cannot have, Sire.”

“Why not?”

“You are the Prince and I am a low servant who scrubs floors for a living.”

“And I regret every moment we have not been together.”

“Sire?”

“Long have a looked for a man with your desires. I cannot believe you were under my nose all this time.”

“But, Sire; my desires….” I frowned.

“Master Morgan, as your Prince, I order that you never, ever call any of your desires unnatural. Unless you wish to have sex with children, animals or dead bodies…”

“Gods, no!’

“Fine, then. As long as I live, I order you to never call your desires unnatural. Understand?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Now, for that which you wish. I order you to tell me: what is it you want that cannot be bought with your yearly bonus allotment?”

“I want one night with you, Sire.” I could barely look at him; I felt so unbearably shy.

I heard a rolling laugh. “Oh, Master Morgan; I think I can do better than that. In fact, I know I can do better than that.” He touched my chin with a fingertip. “Look at me, handsome Master Morgan.”

I took a breath in and raised my head. The smirk had returned to his face; I could even see it clearly in his eyes. “Now then, Master Morgan, I will fulfill your wish. Tomorrow night, you are to come here again at seven; be prompt and that will please me greatly. Between now and then, do not touch yourself unless it is to clean yourself or pee, understand?”

I swallowed and nodded, my eyes wide.

“Also, I forbid you to orgasm; do not rub the sheets nor any piece of furniture in an attempt to give yourself release, understand? I would be very disappointed should you do so.”

My head bobbed up and down like on marionette strings. Gods, I’d do anything he said, anything he’d ask, anything to prevent him from being disappointed in me.

His smirk slid into an easy smile. He carefully pulled my head towards his, and he gave me a gentle, soft kiss. “I know what I’ll be dreaming of tonight. Now, go and sleep well, Morgan.”

I stood, bowed to him, left his office and floated all the way back to my chambers on a cloud of delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite line in this whole passage:
> 
> Infinite people have infinite imaginations to think up and be aroused by infinite sexual situations.


	3. A Request Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Langston gives Morgan his request: one night with him.

That night, my dreams were filled with the Prince. In one dream after another, the Prince and I made love everywhere imaginable: my bed, his office, the Main Hall where he held court, every bedroom in the palace, and even outside on the front lawn.

When I awoke in the morning, I was horrified; I'd had a wet dream in the middle of the night, defying the Prince’s command. My spirits were low the whole day with worry and anger at myself for coming in my sleep like a randy boy. Even though it was unintentional, I could already imagine his disappointment in me, and thought he would refuse me tonight saying I had disobeyed him.

I arrived at his office at five to seven, just as I had the previous night. The first thing I did when he permitted me entrance was to prostrate on the floor myself in front of his desk, begging for his forgiveness and leniency.

“Now then, Master Morgan. What awful thing have you done today that you need my forgiveness for?”

“I disobeyed you, Sire!”

“Oh? How so?”

“You forbade me to orgasm, and I did so while I slept. I didn’t mean to, Sire! I swear! I just was having so many dreams about you, and…”

He chuckled softly. “Well, it looks like I’ll never have to worry about you lying to me; you’re too honest by half, I think. Rise, Master Morgan. You require neither my forgiveness nor my leniency; instead you need sympathy as one man to another. Wet dreams are fun, but are uncomfortable to wake up to, especially if your come has dried your penis to your pubic hair or your slit closed.”

“Sire?” I lifted my head to see if he was joking or not.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Master Morgan.”

I leapt to my feet in a flash.

“Good, Master Morgan. Now, I am assuming that since you are here, and on time I might add happily, that you still desire your wish to be fulfilled?”

“Of course, Sire. I mean, you ordered me…”

“I did, but you still have choice, little one.” He came over to stand in front of me, and looked in my eyes. “I may order you, but you still have the option to say no if what I tell you to do makes you fearful, unhappy or angry.”

“Sire? But you ordered me.”

“Do you wish to be here because you truly want to be, or because I ordered you?”

“I want to be here, Sire.”

“Then we will talk more of me ordering you around at a later date. Tonight, no orders.”

“No?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “But…”

“But nothing. I said that we will talk later, and we will. Tonight though, no games. We come together as equals or not at all. I wish to learn about you unencumbered by the potential for misunderstanding. Understand?”

I nodded, but I didn’t understand. Not really. Did he mean he truly did not wish to command me in the bedroom?

“Do not lie, Morgan; your face is too easily read. Do you understand me?”

I looked to the floor and shook my head no.

“Let me try to make it easier for you. Before I tell you what you can or cannot do, I want you to know what is possible. I want you to have the freedom to follow your desires and touch me as you will, without the worry that you would displease me. I don’t want you to feel conflicted in wanting to try something new but being unable to do so because I said you couldn’t.”

“You want me to touch you? But I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know what you like! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“And therein lies the fun. Learning what pleases your lover by experimenting brings with it its own joy and wonderment. You learn about your partner and yourself. Time and experience bring a different type of satisfaction, but nothing can reproduce the thrill and excitement of those first few fumbling times.

“And truly, I seriously doubt anything you do will hurt me, and I will be honest and tell you if what you are doing is not arousing. I will never hurt you, and I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me if I do anything you do not enjoy. Please.”

That seemed a reasonable request. "I promise, Sire."

"Then, let's go," and he started to guide me to the door.

"Where, Sire?"

"What do you mean ‘where’?"

"We are not staying here?"

“No... We are going back to my suite."

I pulled away from him. I could not believe he was going to take me to his suite; it was his private space, and as a low servant I certainly didn't deserve to go there.

"Is that a problem?"

"It's your suite!"

"So? It's comfortable and relaxing and it's where my bed is. I'll not take you here on the sofa." He looked into my eyes, and gave me a warm smile. "I want you to come to my suite. You deserve to be there; more than most that have visited me there, for sure."

I was still unsure.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked softly.

"Of course not, Sire! It's just…I'm a low servant and you're a prince and I have no right..."

"You have every right. Right now, you are Morgan, man, not Morgan, servant, just as right now I'm a man and not a prince. I want you to come to my suite with me. Please, Morgan, come home with me.” He bowed and outstretched one hand to me.

I looked carefully into the Prince’s eyes, looking for anything that would tell me whether he was being truthful or not. I never had been good at seeing deception in others, but the Prince looked relaxed and hopeful. I slid my hand into the Prince’s, hoping beyond hope that he was not playing me for a fool.

He smiled at me brilliantly. “Thank you, Morgan. You’ll not regret tonight,” and he gently guided me out the office door.

While the Prince locked the door to his office, I could feel the eyes of one of his guards on me. Guard Lander always made me feel uncomfortable; whenever I caught him looking at me, he would be ogling me as one would ogle a wench or a rent-boy at the local bar. He was loud and large and brutish, and had a reputation of changing bed-mates more frequently than I changed the water in my scrub bucket.

“Come along now, Morgan. Guards, we go to my suite.” The Prince sharply walked off, and the guards and I stepped briskly to catch up. The other guard caught up to the Prince first, with Lander and I lagging behind.

“Going to be a trollop for the Prince, hmm?” I heard Lander hiss behind me. “Don’t think he’ll want a scrawny, frigid thing like you more than one night, so I wouldn’t keep my hopes up if I were you.”

I hung my head down; although I may not have liked Lander, what he said had the ring of truth.

“Morgan, are you unwell? You look…” the Prince had stopped and was looking at me intently.

“I’m not unwell, Sire,” I replied, and tried to smile.

“Then come here and walk beside me. Guards, follow us, but give us at least ten paces between you both and Master Morgan and I. Understand?”

Both guards said yes and we continued on.

“Now, what is troubling you? Are you having second thoughts?” the Prince asked me quietly.

“Not at all, Sire.”

“Did Lander say something to you?”

I hesitated; I did not want to be know as a tattler, but I also did not want to lie to the Prince.

“Your hesitation and your face speak volumes. Now, what did he say?”

I looked down at my feet moving over the patterned carpet. “He called me your trollop. He said you’d never want a scrawny, frigid thing like me longer than one night anyway. It’s not like he spoke an untruth.”

“He said what?!” The Prince put his hand out to stop me. “He most certainly spoke untruths; he can no more speak for me than… Guards, halt! You, stay here,” he said to me then he walked over to the guards who’d maintained their distance from us.

I kept my eyes focused on my shoes, and I heard angry voices float over to me.

“Now, apologize formally to Master Morgan, then remove yourself from my sight. You’ll be guarding our furthest outpost from the eagles and the trout for eternity for your little stunt. Now!” the Prince growled.

Guard Lander kneeled before me. “Master Morgan, I apologize for speaking of you in such a way. I beg your forgiveness, please.” He lifted his head to look at me, and there was not one bit of regret to be found anywhere on his face. Instead, his eyes were blazing with fury.

The Prince cuffed him upside his head. “You do not appear to be contrite, Lander. Apologize. Again!”

“Master Morgan, please! I beg you to forgive my inappropriateness. I should never had said such awful things.” This time, he left his head bowed so I could not see his face.

“May you accept my forgiveness,” I replied formally. I didn’t actually believe he was truly sorry, but my response at least acknowledged his effort.

“Now, get gone!” the Prince shouted and Lander scurried away faster than a hungry cockroach. “Guard Mansfield! Do you have anything to say?”

He kneeled at the Prince’s feet. “No, Sire. What would I need say?”

“Do you wish to comment about Master Morgan as well?”

Mansfield looked up to the Prince, confusion filling his face. “Master Morgan is above reproach. He is a hard worker, is more than willing to help others when asked, and I’ve never heard anyone speak ill of him.”

“Is there gossip about his sex life?”

Mansfield cleared his throat. “It is…umm…known that Master Morgan has had very few bed-mates, but that is all.”

“Nothing else?”

“No, Sire.”

“Stand, Mansfield. Now, are you comfortable enough guarding us on your own for the remainder of your shift, or would you like me to request someone from the guardhouse to assist you?”

Mansfield stood in front of the Prince. “I will be fine on my own, Sire.”

“Good. Follow us to my suite.”

We walked along quietly for a while, the Prince watching his shoes as we went. When we reached the door to his suite, the Prince knelt before me, took my hands in his, and said, “I must beg you your forgiveness, Master Morgan.” He appeared truly anguished.

“Why are you apologizing, Sire? You’ve done nothing.”

“I’ve known that Lander was a disgusting pig for a long time. I should have had him transferred long before now, but it always seem to get put to the bottom of the list. Now, you suffered because of neglect of my princely duties. Can you forgive me, Master Morgan?” He rubbed his cheek on the back of my hands. “Please?”

“Please stand, Sire. There is nothing to forgive.”

“No. I’ll not stand until you forgive me.”

“Sire, I forgive you. Now please, stand.”

“Thank you, Master Morgan. I beg you, would you wait here a moment? I had something prepared for us tonight, and wish to see if it is ready.”

I nodded, and he unlocked his door and went in, leaving me with Guard Mansfield.

“You, Master Morgan, deserve every happiness the Prince can give you,” he said to me.

I turned and looked at him. “Why do you say that?”

“You, Master Morgan, are good. None see, but I have. I wish you nothing but joy,” and he bowed low to me.

As he was straightening up, the door of the suite opened. “Are you ready, Master Morgan?” After I nodded, he took my hand to lead me inside. With one last look at Guard Mansfield’s pleased face, I entered the Prince’s suite.

His suite was glowing. More candles than I could count were on every surface available: on tables, the windowsills and even on the floor. The gentle, sweet smell of beeswax floated through the air. It was a fairy tale dreamland; I’d never seen nor heard of so many candles in one place being used all at one time. That the Prince had organized this specially awed me.

“Come in, Morgan. Let me show you around.”

I slipped my shoes off in the entryway, and followed the Prince into the main part of his home. His apartment was all modern lines and clean curves, but whether or not it was due to the light of the candles, it did appear very comfortable and homey.

After he had shown me the rest of the apartment, we ended up in his bedroom.

“So, Morgan. We are here. Your wish was to spend one night with me. Do you still wish this?”

I gave him a shy smile and a nod.

“Have you thought how we spend the night together?”

I was sure even with the soft lighting from the candles, he’d be able to easily see my blush. He came close, dragging the fingertips of one hand down my chest, over my hip and around to my back.

“Hmm, let me guess,” he whispered into my ear. “You wish to eat at my table, use my decadent shower, and sleep peacefully all night in my luxurious down bed next to me?”

Somehow, one of his fingers from his other hand found a nipple through my dress shirt and he petted it. Gods, that felt good.

“So tell me, little one, is that what you wished for? An evening of using the comforts of my home?”

I guessed he was teasing, but was a bit unsure. I looked down and shook my head no.

“Hmm, what else could you possibly want to do then?” I felt his breath ghost over my ear, and I could feel the warmth of his chest touching mine. I couldn’t see, but I felt an increased pressure to my nipple that seemed to send shimmers of arousal directly to my cock, and I tilted my head back and groaned.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?”

I could only nod my head loosely.

“So, you never actually said what you wanted to do with me tonight.”

“I…er…” The Prince kept tweaking my nipple, with each twist a bolt of desire shooting down me. “I…umm…you…”

The Prince chuckled then, surprisingly, he nibbled my ear. My knees wobbled as a wave of arousal flew through me. The Prince caught me in his arms, and carried me to his bed, depositing me carefully on the fluffy duvet. He turned away, and I looked over to see him pulling his clothing off.

“Sire, I want you…” I managed to finally squeak out.

“I know; I want you too. For now, I’ll tease you no more. Now, please, Morgan, remove your clothing; I want to see your beauty.”

Him calling me beautiful was like a shock of cold water, and I bolted upright. “I, Sire, I’m not that…” and I curled my knees up, wishing we could make love without him seeing my body.

He stood next to the bed, glorious in his nakedness.

“Not what? Beautiful? Of course you are. Now, tell me, what you do you see when you look at me?”

He was well muscled without being bulky, and I could make out dark hair on the top part of his chest, around a perfectly delicious penis, and down his legs. “Gods, Sire, there is no one alive who could possibly be more gorgeous than you.”

He laughed. “Thank you for the lovely compliment. There are some who would disagree with you, mightily. Now, when I look in the mirror, I see that I carry too much weight on my abdomen, my arms have lost the strength of my youth, and I need to work on bulking up my chest.”

“But, Sire; you’re perfect.”

He laughed again. “No; I’m rather far from perfect, but because you are attracted to me, you do not see the flaws that are so apparent to me. I am attracted to you too, Morgan, and what I see is that you are lithe and slender and so graceful in your movements. I want to know if what I imagine is close to real thing. Please, Morgan, lay back and let me undress you.”

He crawled onto the bed and knelt next to me; then he gently guided me back, so I was lying flat, and he began unbuttoning my shirt. I turned my head away, not daring to see his reaction when he finally saw me. When I felt the front of my shirt open and the edges slide to the bed, I heard a quick intake of breath. Squeezing my eyes shut, I feared that the sound meant he was disgusted at what he was seeing.

“Gods,” I heard him whisper. A delicate stroke from his soft hand glided down my chest to my stomach. “Gods, you cannot be real,” I heard him whisper again. “Morgan, please, little one, look at me. Please, there’s nothing for you to hide from.”

I turned my head, and carefully opened one eye. “There you are. Now open the other.”

I did, but his face was in shadow and I could not see the expression on his face. “Morgan, Gods above.”

“Sire?”

“Please, I beg you call me Langston or Lang when we are in bed together. Please.”

I nodded.

“Now, why would you ever think you are not beautiful?” He reached over, undid the buttons on my sleeves and sat back on his heels. I wriggled out the sleeves, and left the shirt under me.

“It is as Lander said; I’m scrawny.”

“Do not mention him in our bed ever again, understand?”  
  
“Yes, Sire.”

“Lang.”

“Lang.”

“Good. Now, you are not scrawny. You are slender, willowy. Many desire to have your body shape.”

“Perhaps women do. But I’m a man; I wish I had your body.”

“You are wrong. Do you know how many men would love to have your shape? There are times I myself wished for a lithe body to dive through the water and be able to swim like a fish, when instead I sink like a stone.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am. I spent many summers at the seaside, jealous of those able to swim in the surf so easily. I have tried to learn to swim, and can do so, barely. As a child, I dreamt I was a dolphin, swimming through the waves. I am rather earth-bound, I’m afraid.”

It was new to me to think the Prince would desire a different body. He was so solid and strong, I could barely imagine him wishing he were otherwise.

“Now, Morgan, sit up so that I may pull your shirt from behind you.” I grabbed his offered hand and he pulled me upright, grabbed the shirt and tossed it off the bed, and gently allowed me to lay back. “May I remove your pants, please?”

I blushed hard but nodded. I felt his hands on my belt, and he slid the end from the buckle. He popped the button on the waistband and, tooth by tooth, lowered the zipper. I could feel the heat of his hand hovering over my erection, but he did not touch it.

“Lift your hips, little one,” he said instead. I did, and with a bit of wiggling from me, he slid my pants down off my legs and tossed them off the bed. Carefully, he lifted one of my legs, then the other, removing my socks. I now lay before him the barest I had lain in front of anyone. My cock was pulsing in my underwear; I wanted him to remove my boxers, but I was so scared. What if what was still hidden was not large enough or ugly in shape or colour to him?

I was expecting him to pull off my underwear; instead he lay beside me. “Morgan. It is up to you to decide when your underwear comes off. I want you to crave to lay naked in front of me, begging me touch you, to make love to you.”

I doubted that I’d ever get to that wanton point, but I just nodded and sighed feeling his warmth. He was on his side, leaning up on one elbow, looking down a me.

“You’re so lovely, so smooth and creamy,” his whispered softly as he gently stroked my chest.

I blushed and turned my head from him. “I’m hairless as a newborn babe.”

“You’re no babe, for certain. You’re all man, from what I can see.”

I blushed harder and he chuckled. “Lift your arms for me and rest your hands against the headboard, hmm?” I did, unsure why he would ask such a thing. “Definitely no babe.” He trailed his hand over to my armpit, and petted the wisps of dark hair there. His touch caught me off guard; it was close to as arousing as when he was tweaking my nipple. I groaned and arched, hoping he’d repeat whatever he did that inflamed me so.

“Gods, you certainly are a sensitive one, aren’t you?”

“I…um…yes? I don’t know…”

“I’m not expecting you to answer that, little one.” He continued petting me, trailing his fingertips down my upper arm, along my armpit and down the side of my chest. I couldn't believe how a simple touch could be so arousing and I let out a groan. He chuckled once again, and he repeatedly stroked me up and down my side. I writhed, unable to control the rippling of my body.

I felt him move, and I barely lifted my eyelids to see where he was going. He straddled my thighs, pinning them to the bed, and he had a wicked grin that brightened his face.

“Are you uncomfortable? Am I too heavy?” he asked softly.

My eyes drifted closed and I slowly shook my head no. His groin was close to my own, so close…

Unbelievably, he stroked down my sides with both of his hands.

“Fuck!” I cried aloud, and my back arched off the bed. “Gods, Sire, please, Gods! I…what you are doing? Forgive my cussing…” and I let my back relax to the bed.

“Ah; finally. Let yourself be free, and swear if it comes naturally. My ears are the least virgin part of me, and I do not get offended easily. I love to hear my bed-mate enjoying themselves.”

He stroked so lightly back up and down my sides, and I couldn’t figure out to get him to touch me harder except to wriggle desperately. His hands slowed, and stopped beside my chest; his thumbs caressed my nipples, and the arousal was close to unbearable. I pushed my chest up, trying in vain to get more contact with his thumbs, but he simply kept a light touch circling each.

“Sire, please, Gods. Please!”

“Tell me, Morgan. Tell me what you want.”

The circling of my nipples with his thumbs was driving me insane; I couldn’t think of what to say, or even what I wanted him to do. I knew I didn’t want him to stop, however.

“Please, Sire! Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop! Gods!”

"Oh, I have no plan on stopping. Do other things, perhaps, but I won’t stop unless you wish it.”

“No! Gods, no!”

My chest seemed to be arching up on its own, desperately seeking more pleasure. I felt his hands travel under me to support my back off the bed, and he rocked forward, his cock pressing into me, his legs sliding down next to mine, and his tongue licking a wide stripe up the middle of my chest. My eyes flew open and I looked down my body to see the most handsome eyes in the world looking up to me. At that moment, all I wished was to run my hands through his dark, short waves and all over his face.

“Please, Sire! Please…”

Another lick right up my chest, and I groaned. “What are you asking for, Morgan?”

“Please, Sire, please, permit me to remove my hands from the headboard. I beg you, please, I need to touch you, Sire…”

He gave me a little nod, a smile in his eyes. “Absolutely, you are permitted. You are free to touch me wherever you wish, little one.”

My hands flew down to him, but I drew them short of actually touching him. He smiled, and tilted his head into one hand so I was touching his hair. Carefully, I threaded my fingers through his thick, silky hair, simply enjoying my first touch of him. Unseen by me, he captured a finger from my other hand and drew it into his mouth to suck on it.

The dam burst. It was as if every barrier within me crashed down, setting me ablaze as it did so. I scrabbled my hand through his hair to grab his shoulder, his arm, anything, to pull him up that I could kiss him. Needing his lips on mine was like needing air to breathe.

“Please, please. I’m begging you, please, that I may kiss you…”

“You need never beg for that, little one. My kisses are always freely given, and as many as you want.”

It seemed that in a blink of an eye his lips were on mine, but no matter how I pulled or tilted, I couldn’t get my mouth close enough to his. Then I felt his tongue against my lips; it surprised me so that I opened my mouth to gasp and in he slid. His tongue was supple and soft and hard and demanding all at the same time, and I tried desperately to open my mouth wider to allow more in. I gripped his back, pulling him close, unintentionally scratching him hard and he moaned around our tongues, the sound travelling right to my cock. He rocked his hips, and the paired sensations of his tongue thrusting in my mouth and his cock thrusting into mine spiralled my arousal ever higher. I was desperation; I wanted to feel him against me, no barriers dividing us.

I carefully pulled my head from his, and I moaned out, “Please, Sire, I need to feel you. Please, please, please…”

“Do you not feel me right now?” He rocked his hips against me again.

“Sire, I do, but please, I want…I want…I want to feel myself bare against you.”

He smiled. “As you wish.” He shuffled down my body and my legs then knelt straight up, his hands on my waist. “Lift up, little one.”

I arched up my hips, and he shuffled my boxers down. He moved down the bed as my underwear slid down my legs; he stepped off the bed to fully remove them from my feet and dropped them on the floor.

It was as he had said earlier; I wanted to be naked for him, I wanted him to touch me wherever he liked.

“You take my breath away.” He got back on the bed, and crawled like a predator between my legs, hunger filling his eyes. Stopping at my groin, he flashed me a smile then he flicked his eyes down to my cock and drew in a deep breath in through his nose. “You smell like…heaven and home and so sweetly delicious.” He slowly dropped his head down, and before I knew it, he reached out his tongue and gave my swollen, aching cock a long, wet, filthy lick.

That was it. I hadn’t realized I was quite so close, but the combination of the intense arousal of just a few minutes ago, knowing I was naked before my Prince and that the Prince’s tongue was on my cock, pushed my orgasm through me like an unexpected bolt of lightning. A shout tore from my throat and it seemed my whole body was one, tight spasm of release. My cock pumped an unknown amount of times until I thought I had no more fluid left in my body.

I was spent. My eyes had shut and I was unaware of how much time had passed, but I did soon realize that I couldn’t feel the Prince touching me. I opened an eye to look around, and what I saw made me cringe in shame: the Prince was kneeling between my wide-spread legs, my come dripping from his face.

“Back with the living?” he said to me.

“Oh, Gods, I’m sorry, Sire; let me get up and get a cloth to clean you…” I turned to get out of bed when he pushed me back to lie down.

“No; it’s fine. Relax some and get your wits about you. Haven’t had a facial like that in quite a while.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have warned you, but it came along so quick, and…”

“I’d not say quick,” he said, as he left the bed and padded to the bathroom. “I thought you had admirable duration, considering how aroused you were and with it being your first time with another.”

I tossed an arm over my eyes. Oh Gods; I knew the Prince was just being polite. He'd touched my penis once, and I came as easily as I had the first time I had masturbated while fantasizing about a boy.

I felt the mattress bow beside me, and then a moist cloth wiping my abdomen and thighs.

“Are you asleep, little one?” the Prince said softly, laying down next to me.

I shook my head no.

“Do you wish to sleep now?”

Again, I shook my head no.

“Then why do you not look at me?”

I sighed. “I’m embarrassed. I know you were only being polite when you said I had ‘admirable duration’. I came as easily as a horny teen in a strong breeze.”

I heard him chuckle softly. “If you remove your arm and turn to look at me, I’ll tell you of my first time with another. Now that was embarrassing.”

He petted my hip, not saying anything more. The Prince was always in so in control that I thought he came from the womb like that. My curiosity eventually drowned out my embarrassment, and I pulled my arm down and rolled over.

“There’s those handsome eyes I missed.” He kissed me lightly on the lips, but did no more.

“Do you wish to hear of my first time with another?”

I nodded. He told me a hilarious yet cringe-worthy tale of him, an attendant of his cousin’s, some illicit drugs, a very public dance, and the high-fashion leather pants that were permanently ruined when he came in them then passed out for the night.

“I spent many months being called ‘Prince Premature Ejacu-Langston’. After one too many fights at school, that nickname was forbidden by the King to be spoken ever again. Every once in a while, I hear it murmured by old friends, but never with intention to hurt. Now, it’s funny. Then, I felt like the biggest slug in the world, and that no one would ever want me. Now you,” he stroked my cheek, “sweet one. I wanted this first time to be special, and I did many things to ensure you’d have a spectacular release.”

“‘Spectacular’ is certainly one word I’d use.”

“I must also admit, I also wanted to get that first one of yours out of the way. Fast.”

“Why?” Had he wanted me to leave as soon as I was finished?

“Don’t look so worried, little one. I didn’t make you come fast to shame you or shuffle you out the door. Now that the edge has been taken off for you, we can spend our time enjoying one another. Do you understand?”

“Truly? You still wish to spend more time with me?”

“The night is not yet done.” He pulled my hips to his, and I felt his hard cock against my groin. “And neither am I. I have more things to do, to learn and to enjoy. We both do.”

He pulled my hand to his cheek, and I felt the rough beginnings of stubble across my palm. “Morgan, I know you had said earlier that you were afraid to hurt me. Now, I remind you of my trust in you. I will tell you if something you do is not arousing or uncomfortable, so have no worries. I beg you, please, touch me as you will, wherever and however you want.” He placed a soft kiss in the middle of my hand then moved it to rest in the centre of his chest.

The candles were burning low, and some had snuffed themselves out, so I couldn't see his eyes easily. I wished I could see them better and see if he were hesitant or nervous. However, the steady beat of his heart under my palm gave me courage.

“Would you lay back for me, Sire?”

“Only if you call me Lang.”

“Would you lay back for me? Please, Lang?”

He bowed his head towards me and reclined back. With all the candles, it was plenty warm, and he had lain back on top of the duvet.

"So you have me on my back. What now?"

Indeed? I had the intense urge to just look. I figured if I only had one night, I wanted to memorize every plane of his body. Repositioning myself, I ended sitting cross-legged next to his side. For some strange reason, the first part of the Prince's naked body that caught my eye was not the one that should have been obvious. No, it was his belly button.

That soft dimple of skin all of a sudden made him real before me; a man, not the Prince. I petted it softly, and I watched his stomach ripple.

"Have you a thing for belly buttons?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "It's just that it's there. You have one."

He chuckled softly. “Yes, I do. I wasn’t born by springing from the ground fully formed, you know."

I smiled in response, and let my hand follow a swirling path out from his belly button.

I was fascinated how the Prince’s stomach and chest seemed to tighten and relax to no particular rhythm. As my hand glided up over his chest, I started noticing how soft his body hair was, and desired to pet it like one would a kitten. I decided to do so, and used the back of my fingers to simply stroke down his chest over and over. As the back of my hand brushed a firm nipple, I heard a quick gasp from the Prince.

“Are you aware of what you are doing to me, little one?”

I jerked my hand away. “I’m sorry if the roughness of my hand scratched you.”

He quickly trapped my hand and replaced it on his chest. “No, you didn’t hurt me at all. You’re being so delicate and gentle; it’s glorious. I’ve not been treated so carefully in a very long time. And knowing that you are doing such out of simple desire, care and innocence…it’s…you’re pleasing me more than you can imagine. Please, continue.”

I took a few deep breaths to calm the worry from my chest. The Prince released my hand, and I hovered it slightly above his chest. The nubs of his nipples looked pert and tight, so I let my hand wander over to the one furthest from me, and I barely stroked it. It was surprisingly hard, and the dark skin around nipple was bumpy like goose skin. I circled around the nipple, ghosting lightly over the pebbled skin, and I heard a moan tear from deep in the Prince’s chest. I stilled my hand a moment, unsure if the moan was due to pain. I flicked my eyes up to see the Prince’s head tilted back, his mouth open and his eyes closed tight in lust. I let my fingers continue their circular path around his nipple, and felt his one hand close to my knee grip the duvet cover tightly.

I permitted myself a small smile. I’d never thought that I’d ever be able to place such an expression on the face of the Prince and it helped me push through my last bits of worry and attempt a little more. I trailed my hand back over to the closer nipple, circled it a few times, then pinched the sharp little nub between my fingertips.

“Gods, Morgan!”

I pinched a few more times, increasing the hardness a bit each time, and the Prince rewarded me with a moan with each pinch. I got to the point where I was too uncomfortable to go further, so I soothed the nipple with the press of a fingertip.

I let my hand wander up over his collarbones, across the front of his throat, then up along the edge of his jaw. I stroked back down his cheek, and rubbed a thumb over the Prince’s open lips. He surprised me by flicking his tongue out and licking my thumb, and we both laughed easily.

His lips. Gods, they were hypnotic; I couldn’t pull my eyes from them, and craved tasting them again. I shuffled around to lie next to the Prince.

“Sire?” I said as I moved my hand to the back of his neck.

“Hmm?” was the soft, dreamy reply.

“May I kiss you?”

“Mmm. Sounds wonderful, little one.”

I cupped my hand to his head, and touched my lips to his.

This was not the kiss of earlier with its explosive force. I could feel the potential of it becoming such, but I seemed unable to create the sensations I desired. I tried pressing my lips harder to the Prince’s, but that was just uncomfortable, and I couldn’t figure out what to do better. I was about to move back down his body when he said, “Morgan, may I give you some, err, suggestions?”

“Sire?”

“Lang.”

“Sorry. Lang. Suggestions about what? Are you uncomfortable? I can move, or do…”

“No, I am not uncomfortable. I just want to help you learn to kiss, umm, better.”

Oh, Gods. I was terrible at kissing. The Prince was telling me I was terrible at kissing.

I brought my hands up to hide my face, and he turned and gently pulled them down.

“Little one, we were all once as you are now. None of us are born knowing how to kiss; we all begin with the same lack of knowledge. I always assumed that kissing was something akin to devouring your lover: a full frontal attack with lots of contact, lots of pressure, lots of moisture and some biting thrown in for good measure. I thought I was a skilled kisser until just a few years ago when a bed-mate spoke to me the truth of my abilities. We spent many a night just kissing, and I am forever grateful to that man. Now, I want to share what I know with you, so that you may enjoy kissing too. ”

“But the kiss from earlier; I tried to do that again, and I couldn’t get it to feel the same.”

“There is no one way to kiss. Different moments call for different kisses. For example, I doubt you’d kiss your mother the same way you are kissing me tonight.”

“Of course not.”

“Between lovers, sometimes the moment is tender, sometimes the moment is sensual, and sometimes the moment is blazing with passion. I like to think of a tender moment as a few seconds of captured intimacy. It is more than just a touching of lips; there is movement and softness. There is no expectation of more, but the potential is there. Here, let me put my arms around you and show you.”

We wiggled around until we were facing each other, he had an arm around me, and I had my arm tucked under his and around his back.

“Now, just relax.”

I burst out into a nervous laugh. The Prince chuckled until my laughter slowed.

“Sorry, Si… I mean, Lang.”

“Good, little one. You caught yourself that time. Well done.”

His praise was like a balm to my nerves and a boost to my heart.

“Back to what I was saying. Let your jaw go loose and relax open your mouth just a touch.”

That most certainly felt unusual.

“Good. Now, I’m going to kiss you. Just let yourself think about how my lips feel next to yours: do they feel soft or rough, tense or relaxed, or still or active? Try and see what happens if you move your lips around a little before the kiss ends."

I closed my eyes, and the Prince kissed me.

His lips were soft and fluttered over mine like the wings of a butterfly. I tried to match his movements, but much too quickly he removed his lips from mine.

“Now, what did you feel, little one?”

“Too short,” I replied, letting my eyes drift open. Oh, Gods, I had complained. “I mean, it wasn’t too short, it was just so nice…”

The Prince chuckled softly in answer. “As I mentioned earlier, different kisses for different moments. Now, a longer, more sensual kiss. This type of kissing can done be to inflame and arouse, or simply for the pleasure of kissing. There is more movement; kisses can be placed on both lips, either lip, the corner of the mouth, etc. There is also varying pressure; soft to firm but not too crushing.”

I liked the sound of that.

“Oh, little one, your face is just too easy to read. Let’s try that then, shall we?”

I nodded, and let my eyes close again. The kiss started as the previous one; the Prince kissed me lightly, but this time he didn’t stop. His lips moved like liquid flame over mine; hard then soft, long times of rich movement followed by short, quick pecks. His mouth travelled all over, touching every part of my lips with every part of his. The longer we kissed, the more passion stirred in my stomach and groin, and I soon became breathless. The Prince carefully broke off the kiss.

“You can’t forget to breathe, little one.”

I took in a few deep breaths and let them out slow.

“Now, can you see the difference?”

I nodded like an imbecile.

“Cat got your tongue?” he joked. “Well, at least I can now talk about kissing and using your tongue. It’s important to move your tongue and not let it lay in your partner’s mouth like a dead fish. Remember, no one likes a dead fish in their mouth. Gentle flicking the tip of your tongue on your partner’s tongue is a good place to start. If they seem amenable, explore their mouth with short or long sweeps, or perhaps twine your tongue with theirs. It’s always good to sometimes remove your tongue from their mouth and either permit them entrance to your mouth, or return to plain kissing. Just doing one thing over and over is unimaginative and boring, and can turn your partner off. Would you like to try that?”

I had to grin because that truly sounded fabulous. I opened my mouth wide and started to move in close; the Prince laughed.

“No, no, little one. Start again as before, with your jaw relaxed and your mouth just slightly open and kiss normally. You will then either feel the desire to touch your tongue to their lips to ask permission for entry, or you will feel their tongue on your lips, and you can open your mouth a bit more then.”

Oh.

“Ready, then?”

I gave the barest of nods, and we kissed again.

Now, our kissing took on a stronger, harder and somehow more intimate tone. I wanted to be closer, nearer to him, but was hesitant about using my tongue. He was not using his tongue yet, and I was pulling his body tighter to mine. Gods, I wanted him closer…

He pulled from my lips slightly, and our chests were heaving for air.

“Go ahead, little one. I know you desire to,” the Prince whispered.

I looked at his lips, red and moist and barely open. Gods. Gods, I wanted our lips to become one, I wanted us to become one…

I kissed the Prince, and tried to remember all he’d just told me. I moved my mouth carefully over his, attempting to ensure I paid attention to every little crevice and bump of his lips. My desire to become closer to him rose within my chest, and I wanted, Gods, I wanted, so I tentatively poked my tongue out and grazed his lips with the tip.

His mouth opened and the tip of his tongue touched mine; in a flash it was as if my tongue became an extension of my cock. Every flick, every lick inflamed me with arousal, and my cock mirrored every undulation of our tongues with a throb.

The Prince opened his mouth more, and I pressed on, sliding my tongue in deeper. Our tongues danced and moved together, the Prince allowing me to experiment with depth, speed and firmness. The blood was most certainly draining from my head as my arousal spun higher, and I was starting to feel vaguely dizzy when the Prince pulled back.

We were both panting. Hard. I felt his cock pressing into my groin like a heated bar of steel.

“You are a fast learner, little one. Very well done. Very.”

“Thank you, Sire,” I mumbled back.

Pleasing him by kissing him felt like no longer enough. One last short kiss to his lips, and I moved on.  
  
I kissed his chin, and down his throat while holding him close, then I carefully pushed him so he returned to laying on his back. I rested my head on his chest, looking down the length of his body, my hand petting him all over. I felt his heartbeat racing, and my focus moved to the part of his body that should have captured my attention earlier.

His cock lay hard and proud, jutting up slightly from his abdomen due to a curve. I most certainly wished to spend time learning more about that particular part of his body, so I looked up to his face.

“Sire?”

He rolled his eyes. “I swear, little one, if you don’t start calling me Lang…”

“Sorry, sorry. Lang. May I?”

“May you what?”

I looked back down the length of his body, then returned my eyes to his. He smiled.

“I told you earlier, little one, anywhere and any way you desire, you may touch me without asking. Although, if I might encourage you, it would certainly please me if you were to spend some time learning about my cock. Go on.”

I nodded and smiled. I kissed my way down his chest and stomach, placing a few kisses on top of his belly button. Once I shuffled lower I rested my head on his hip, his cock directly in front of me.

Of course, I owned one of such body parts myself and knew how it looked and worked, but I’d never seen one so close up. Even in the mellow lighting, I saw that tiny veins meandered around it, that hairs sprung from not only from around the base but slightly up the shaft as well, and that the head was a dark wine colour. The tip was glistening with moisture, and all of it pulsed to his heartbeat.

I dragged one finger up from the base to the head, tentatively touched the tip, and drew away, noticing the tiny drops of precome stretch like threads then break as I moved. I returned a finger to the tip, and slowly glided the moisture around, causing to whole head to shine and catch the flickering light. I swirled my finger around again, and I heard the Prince groan.

“Gods, Morgan,” I heard the Prince breathe out. “Please, I’m begging you. Please.”

His words seemed reach into my brain and shake some sort of reasonableness free. Oh Gods, I’d already released once tonight, the Prince hadn’t and I was essentially teasing him by only paying attention to my curiosity and not his needs.

I thought fast. I knew what I liked, and hoped the Prince would like the same. I kneeled next to his hip, licked my hand, and took his shaft carefully in my hand. I stroked up and down once, and noticed it felt somewhat thicker than my own but certainly shorter, and heat flowed from it in waves.

“Yes, Gods, yes, Morgan! Just like that! Please, more!”

“As you wish, Sire,” I replied softly.

I did as he bade and continued, gliding his glorious cock through my fist. Every few strokes, I collected the drips that oozed from the head by rubbing my palm over the tip, then redistributing it to add that bit more of slickness that I knew I appreciated. In turn, the Prince moaned, and his hips flexed and relaxed to my tempo.

“Tighter! Harder! So close, Morgan, please!”

I gripped more firmly, certainly more firmly than what I’d use on myself, but the Prince just groaned, and his hips picked up their pace. I made a mental note, and pumped my hand up and down his slick, rock-hard shaft.

“Just, tighter, more around the tip, less all the way up and down,” the Prince eked out.

I added a bit of a twist around his cock as I shortened the length of my stroke and I squeezed so tightly my forearm muscles were easily visible.

“Yes! Gods, yes! Just like that, just like…Morgan!” the Prince shouted and he arched in the rictus of his climax. He twitched and undulated as he came, shooting come in long, arcing spurts over his abdomen and chest.

I loosened my grip but kept stroking until he patted my hand, begging me softly to stop. I carefully removed my hand from him, and looked for tissues. I grabbed some from the box from the bedside table, wiped my hand with one and the rest I used to gently clean him up.

“Come, Morgan, lay beside me,” he whispered.

I tossed the tissues into the waste basket, and curled up beside him once he’d crawled under the duvet. He kissed my messy curls and held me close, all the while murmuring to me how lovely I was, how well I’d done, how sexy and desirable I was.

The scent of our lovemaking had blended with the scent of beeswax. The sweetly-rich musk was the most wonderful thing I’d ever smelt in my life; better than freshly made bread or cookies, or even the fragrant roses that grew in the palace gardens. I vainly wished there was some way I could bottle the scent so that I could have it with me always, a token of a night I would never forget and knew I would never repeat.

I gave a little sigh, and cuddled in closer to the Prince’s side. His murmuring slowed, then became unintelligible mumbles, then drifted away to nothingness. He was breathing soft and easy, and I guessed he’d fallen asleep. However, I was still wide awake. I carefully repositioned myself to better gaze on the Prince, as now I could drink my fill of him while he was resting. I knew I’d never have this opportunity again to be so close to him ever again. I did my best to memorize the unique sculpture of the Prince’s face: the gentle forehead, the soft eyebrows, the long lashes, the wide nose, the generous lips and the strong jaw. Unknown to me, somehow sleepiness took over me and my eyes drifted closed.

I slept some that night, but not much; I was so new at sleeping with a bed-mate that I found myself waking with very twitch and turn of the Prince. When dawn started to crack through the darkness, I carefully slid from the bed and dressed. I wanted to make sure I had time enough to prepare myself for the day ahead and, as much as I didn’t want to, I needed to leave. I looked back to the bed we’d shared; the Prince lay somewhat on his stomach, a leg bent up in front of him and an arm blocking his face. As one last indulgence, I delicately fingered a few his waves into some semblance of order, then blew a kiss to his sleeping form and headed out of the suite. The guards outside the suite nodded to me as I left, and I returned to my chambers to start my day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite line in this chapter:
> 
> Remember, no one likes a dead fish in their mouth.


	4. Back to the Real World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the night before.

Thankfully, leaving early from the Prince’s suite allowed me enough time to make sure I was working promptly at 7:30. I worked no harder than normal, and was surprised to find by the afternoon I was actually ahead of schedule. If I was lucky, I’d be able to clock out a bit early and have a small nap before I went to dinner at the Servants’ Cafeteria.

I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing along, when shortly before the end of my shift I saw a pair of elegant shoes appear near my bucket. One tapped impatiently, and I immediately filled with dread. I recognized both the shoes and the tapping: those shoes belonged to Mistress Damienne, the Head of Housekeeping, and it was rather well known that if she was tapping her foot, her anger was close to exploding all over the poor unfortunate in front her.

“So, Master Morgan,” she started, her voice humming with fury.

“Yes, Mistress?” I kept my eyes low, not daring to enrage her more.

“I’ve heard that my cousin, Guard Lander, has been reassigned; reassigned far, far away from his loving family and dear friends. What do you know of this?”

“That was the Prince’s decision, Mistress.”

“Indeed, however, you pushed the Prince’s hand with lies, no doubt on purpose to remove a rival, correct?”

“No, Mistress.” I’d had no idea that Lander wished the Prince as a bed-mate.

“Liar! You’ll never last with or please the Prince as Lander could have, even if you tried that little trick with the pillow. Now, it’s obvious you’ve neglected your duties today; too busy daydreaming, no doubt. The floor here is filthier than when you started this morning.” She tipped my bucket over with the toe of one shoe. “Start again! And you know you cannot sign out until your schedule is completed. When you clock out, note in the log book that after 4 p.m. you are not to be paid as you did not finish your work within your permitted time limits.”

Oh, Gods, I’d be scrubbing until midnight or later. The floor in this room needed careful focus to scrub it without damaging it by being too vigorous, but it also had all sorts of little grooves and divots which collected the dirt.

“That sounds rather cruel, Mistress Damienne,” I heard a familiar voice say.

“Prince Langston,” Mistress Damienne said and I saw her legs form a curtsey. “You need not concern yourself with such a minor problem, Sire. If I do not follow up with appropriate punishments to poor work, then nothing will get done. I am ordering him to do no more than what is expected, and if he chooses to slack, then he must deal with results of his choices.”

My eyes brimmed with tears. I didn’t want to give the Mistress the bitter joy of making me cry, so I held them back as best as I could, but it hurt to have her point out my so-called poor work to the Prince.

“Show me, Mistress,” and he and the Mistress walked off.

I did the best I could to wipe up the spilled water with the rags I carried but I needed a mop, so I got up to find the closest maintenance room.

“Master Morgan! Where are you going?” I heard the Prince say as he returned with the Mistress. Mistress Damienne looked like she had sucked hard on a whole lemon and her arms were crossed in front of her chest.

“To get a mop, Sire.”

“Fine. Go, and return with all speed.”

I was unsure why the Prince would want me to hurry, but I did as he bade, and returned as fast as I could.

“Now, Mistress Damienne. You were unaware, but I heard your comments about your cousin, Lander. Master Morgan is no liar; Lander was the one who pushed my hand instead. It seems your family is frequently mistaken when it comes to both me and Master Morgan. Apologize to Master Morgan for calling him a liar.”

Her lips were so tight they were white, but she did manage to grumble out, “I apologize for calling you a liar, Master Morgan. Are we finished here, Sire? I need to continue on…”

“No, we are not. From what you’ve shown me, I see that Master Morgan here has actually done a fine job on this precious mosaic floor; it is noticeably cleaner. It seems to me that you are in need in a lesson in humility if you take out your anger on your underlings in such a way. I order you to scrub this whole floor; with no payment. And mop up this water that you tipped over. I will have a pair of guards here to supervise until you are done, to ensure that you do not do a poor job. Now, Master Morgan, hand Mistress Damienne the mop.”

My mouth was hanging open, but I shut it with a snap and handed the mop handle to Mistress Damienne.

“But Sire! I still have paperwork to do, and it’s Friday!” she shouted.

“Then you best get started. Master Morgan, your shift is now ended. Leave your bucket for Mistress Damienne and clock out, making a note in the log book that the Prince requires you to be paid for a whole shift even though you are clocking out early.”

“But…” Mistress Damienne screeched.

“Enough, Mistress! Start now!”

The Mistress shot me enough daggers from her eyes that she could have killed the whole city, but she did move the mop around and started roughly cleaning the floor.

“Carefully, Mistress. I wouldn’t want to have to take money from your paycheque to pay for your damages.”

“Yes, Sire,” she mumbled.

The Prince turned to me and smiled. “Now, Master Morgan, may I walk with you to Housekeeping?”

“Of course, Sire.”

We walked together a few minutes, his guards following; I occasionally looked out the corner of my eye at the Prince, and he seemed deep in thought.

"Has Mistress Damienne treated you in such a way before?"

"No, Sire."

"Good."

We continued on.

"You left early this morning; you were not in my bed when I awoke. Were you...umm...ashamed of being seen leaving my suite and that's why you left when you did?" he asked softly.

"No, Sire! Absolutely not! It's just that, you see how Mistress Damienne can be, so I always make sure I am at work a bit early. I just needed to shower, change, and eat something before my shift."

"You could have showered at my suite. Or woken me and we could have showered together."

I blushed.

"As well, I have a nicely stocked kitchen; I could have cooked you breakfast. Ah well, perhaps next time."

I stopped dead, stunned into immobility.

"Is there a problem, Master Morgan? Why did you stop?"

"No! It's just that you said 'next time'!" I managed to stutter out.

"I did."

"But, Sire! My wish was only for one night with you!"

"You do not want more?” He frowned.

"I never thought it was an option as my wish had been granted fully."

"Ah," he said and chuckled softly. "Indeed it was.” He paused a few moments. “Now that I have fulfilled your wish, I have a request to ask of you. My wish is to spend as much time with you as you will let me, as frequently as possible. Would you fulfill my wish, Master Morgan?"

My mouth gaped.

"Well, shall we continue? And perhaps you could decide if you would grant my wish before I need to take my leave of you at Housekeeping?"

I nodded and, with a gentle hand, the Prince encouraged me on.

I couldn't believe it. The Prince wanted to spend time with me, a low servant. He'd been a gentle and generous bed-mate the night before, and there was no doubt I'd love to visit his bed again. But was that all he wanted, me as a bed-mate? I sincerely doubted he’d want to spend much time with me, but, by the Gods, I would take all the time granted me of his presence, whether that be in bed or out.

Before I knew it, we were at the office for Housekeeping.

"Well, Master Morgan, we are here. I beg you, please answer me. Will you be generous and fulfil my wish?" His face was actually filled with worry, his brows drawn tightly together and a hint of a frown played on his lips.

I nodded and looked at my shoes, too shy to show my desire of him.

"That's a sweet blush on your face, but please, say the words. I want to hear from your own mouth that you wish to be with me."

I squeezed my eyes tight. "Sire; Prince Langston. I grant you your wish with my full heart. You may be with me as you desire, for as long as I please you."

I felt him take my hands in his. "Look at me, Morgan, please?"

I peeked up, and saw his face bright in a smile. "You are indeed generous. Thank you, little one." He kissed the knuckles of my hands, then released them. "There will be something waiting for you in your chambers after you sign out from your shift. I hope to see you soon, Morgan." He stroked my cheek lightly, then strode off with his guards.

I vaguely remember going into the office, signing the log book, and clocking out, as my mind was filled with the Prince. As I left, I saw Guard Mansfield leaning against the wall by the door, chatting and flirting with one of the apprentice chamber maids. He gave me a smile and a wink as I passed by.

As I walked through the palace, my mind was swirling with what the Prince had said: something would be waiting for me in my chambers. What could it be? Flowers? Chocolates? I knew those were common enough gifts for lovers to give, but other than that I had no idea, no frame of reference as to what the Prince would give me.

I entered my chambers. Nothing seemed amiss. There was nothing unusual either in the kitchen or the living room. When I made it to my bedroom, I saw it. Or should I say them.

My Servant Bonus request; but now there were two. A pair of down pillows with green pillowcases lay neatly on my bed, red ribbons tied in bows around them. In front of them lay a thick envelope, my name in fancy cursive on the front. The envelope smelled faintly of sweet cedar and I carefully opened the thick parchment.

_My dear… Master Morgan;_

_Forgive my …, I forgot to re… you to take your ... with you when you left the other day. May it bring you … dreams, … some of them … me._

…

I recognized his signature at the end. The Prince wrote me a letter. A huge letter. It was pages in length, in the most beautiful script I’d ever seen. However, there were so many words, a large number of which I didn’t understand or could not read. I flipped quickly through the pages, desperately seeking if I could find a few phrases that would tell me more. Did the Prince want to meet me somewhere? Was the Prince telling me something important that I needed to know? Why did he write me so much?

I became frantic; there was no doubt in my mind that I needed to find out what the Prince wrote to me. I dreaded disappointing him by missing a meeting he’d set up. How could I discover the contents of the letter? My mind had a thought; Guard Mansfield had been so nice to me the last couple of days, I hoped if I caught him at the office he might help me. Besides, I had no other who I might go to for aid. I folded the letter carefully and replaced it in the envelope, and I ran back to the Housekeeping office.

I skidded into the office and, thank the Gods, Guard Mansfield was still there chatting with the young lady. I cleared my throat a couple of times in attempt to catch his attention but seemed to be unable to. I was ready to kneel in front of him, begging forgiveness but pleading for his attention when he said, “Candace? I think Master Morgan is in need of me presently. I promise, we will continue this conversation. Perhaps over dinner tonight?”

“It’s fine, Manny. I know how you are when it comes to those in need. I’ll see you tonight.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, nodded her head to me, and slipped from the office.

“Now, Master Morgan, what can I do for you? You seem flustered.”

“I beg you, please, help me,” I replied and I shoved the envelope into his hands.

He looked at the front. “This is the Prince’s writing.”

“It is. Please, help me. I need to understand it.”

He pulled the papers out of the envelope. He started reading, then flushed bright red. “I… I… should not be reading this. This is between you and the Prince.”

I mirrored his red face and dropped my eyes, but not before I saw his mouth drop in shock. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway. He checked to make sure we were alone, then said, “You cannot read this, can you?”

I shook my head. “Please, Esteemed Master Guard Mansfield, I need to know if he is asking me to do something or to meet him somewhere. I cannot disappoint him; I cannot have him think I have changed my mind! Please, help me!”

He folded the letter back into the envelope and tucked it in his jacket’s inner pocket. “We need to speak to the Prince. Both of us. Now.”

“But…”

He pushed me back in the office and motioned for me to wait. Grabbing a phone from the desk, he made a call. “Arlene? It’s Guard Manny. I need to see the Prince right now. No. No. I know that, but this is very, very important. No. Yes, honestly it’s that important. Tell him it’s about Master Morgan and his wellbeing. Yes, I’ll wait.” He picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk for what seemed like an eternity. “We’re on our way now. Thanks, Arlene. I owe you big.”

He hung up and turned to me. “We go to see the Prince. Now.”

“But…”

“No buts. Come along now, and keep up.”

We practically ran to the Prince’s office, and he told us to enter as soon as Guard Mansfield had knocked but once. We approached the Prince and quickly each of us went to one knee.

“Now, what is so important that this cannot wait? I was ready to leave the office for the evening to prepare for….”

Guard Mansfield pulled the envelope from his pocket and gave it to the Prince.

The Prince’s eyes grew huge. “You should not have this…” He looked to me, then to Guard Mansfield, then back to me. I saw confusion turn to rage in a flash. “Are you both blackmailing me? Threatening me? Was this a plan between the both of you to somehow get the government to remove me for fraternizing with a commoner? Is that what this is about?”

My heart sank. I could not believe that the Prince would think that of me and I certainly had never been aware he could be removed by the government for associating with me.

“Of course not, Sire! I’ve known you for a long time. Do you honestly think I would do such a thing, after all we’ve been through? No, Sire, you know I have been and always will be on your side.”

“Then speak! What is this about?” he yelled at me.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out; I had no idea what to say.

“Sire, Master Morgan was afraid of disappointing you. He came to me for help because he was unable to read your letter. He didn’t want to miss something important and so searched me out. Sire, Master Morgan cannot read.”

He glared at me. “But you read my last note to meet me here in my office.”

“It was a short note, Sire. I recognized my name, your name, and enough words to understand,” I replied.

The Prince shoved the envelope at me. “Read it. Out loud. Now!”

Oh, Gods. “My dear…um…dear…” I started.

“Dearest,” Mansfield whispered.

“Do not assist him!” the Prince shouted. “Read!”

“ _‘My dearest Master Morgan. Forgive my’_ …umm … something, _‘I forgot to re’_ …err… _‘you to take your'_... mmm... _'with you when you left the other day. May it bring you’_ … umm, I’m not sure… _‘dreams’_...umm... _‘some of them’_ … something… _'me’_.”

“That’s enough, Morgan. Stand, both of you. Manny. Were you aware of this?” the Prince asked quietly.

We stood, and Mansfield said, “No, Sire. Not until just before now.”

Thankfully, the Prince no longer looked so angry, he just appeared thoughtful. “You know, if this gets out to those who would oppose me…”

“I am aware of that, Sire.”

“Morgan, how did you get hired here at the palace, being able to read so little? All servants require high school education.”

“The teachers let me continue with barely passing grades; whether I earned them or not, I couldn’t say. I officially did pass high school, Sire.”

“And is that why you are a floor-scrubber still after your years of service?”

“I often hear of other positions, but cannot read the postings to know of the requirements or the applications to fill them out. So I don’t. Besides, floor-scrubber pays decent enough, and I have few needs.”

“Master Morgan, Guard Mansfield. I apologize for jumping to erroneous conclusions. It seems, Master Morgan, that many people have been misjudging you lately, myself included. Both of you, I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

Both Mansfield and I nodded.

“So, Sire, what now? What do we do and how do we help Master Morgan without the whole palace knowing? One small inkling…” Mansfield said.

“I know. For now, we do nothing. I will think on this some during the weekend, and will talk with Master Morgan. For now, say nothing to no one. Either of you.”

“Yes, Sire,” Mansfield and I said in unison.

“And Manny, you will forget ever word you read of that letter.”

Mansfield reddened. “Of course, Sire. It’s forgotten already.”

“Now, Manny, you may go. Thank you for being an honest soul who looks out for the best for his friends.”

“You’re welcome, Sire. I’ll see you Monday.” Guard Mansfield stood, bowed, and left the office.

The Prince turned his gaze to me. He thought a few moments, then said, "Why did you not come to me? Do I make you so fearful that you were not able to talk to me?"

"My lack of reading ability is shameful, Sire," I mumbled. "I hoped you'd never find out. I do not want to give you any reason to be displeased with me."

"You think I would be displeased because of something which is not your fault?"

"Perhaps."

"It would take much more than that to displease me enough to refuse to spend time with you. I know you do not know me well, but I beg that if you have problems or troubles that you speak to me of them. Please?"

I gave a hesitant nod. I had to ask, so I said, "Sire? Was there anything in your letter to me that you wanted me to do? It is the reason I asked Guard Mansfield; I didn't want to miss an appointment you expected me at."

"You are already here; there is nothing that cannot wait. Have you eaten yet this evening?"

"No, Sire."

"Would you sup with me tonight?"

I looked down at my ill-fitting and filthy uniform. "I am not properly attired, Sire."

He smirked. "I'd rather you not be attired at all.”

I blushed at the innuendo and I would have sworn I had never blushed so much as I had since the Prince had first invited me to his office. It was obvious he took much pleasure of making me blush as often as he could.

“I kid, little one. Although, perhaps not so much. If I give you leave to change and do what you need to do, would you eat with me tonight?”

“I will return as fast as is humanly possible, Sire, if you would wait to sup with me.”

He kissed my hand. “I would wait as long as is necessary and then some. If I might suggest, wear something casual and comfortable. Go, and when you are ready, come to my suite. The guards will know of your appointment with me and will let you in. I await your return, Morgan.”

I stood, gave a perfunctory bow, grinned at the Prince and dashed from his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite few sentences if only because they are so sappy:
> 
> "Sire; Prince Langston. I grant you your wish with my full heart. You may be with me as you desire, for as long as I please you."


	5. Dinner at the Pavilion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet meal outdoors is only the beginning.

After a quick shower and as I was changing into some cleaner, more suitable clothes, I noticed the pair of pillows on my bed. I made note to ask the Prince why there were two instead of just the one I had asked for. Not only that, but the comments made by Mistress Damienne that day and the Prince’s line of questions he’d asked me earlier in the week had piqued my curiosity. I wished to know why they had been asking me about the pillow.

I raced back to the Prince's suite as fast as was humanly possible without actually running through the palace. When I arrived, there was a single guard at the door.

“Master Morgan?” the guard asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Guard Marcus. The Prince asked me to accompany you; if you could follow me, sir.” The guard opened the door, guided me through and followed himself. He locked the door behind us and we walked through the Prince’s suite to an exterior door. He motioned me to continue outside, and again, followed me and locked the door behind us.

We were in a garden filled with flowers, bushes and trees and surrounded by a high stone wall. Guard Marcus led me down a path, and we ended up in front of an iron door that passed through the wall. Again, he guided me through it, locking it behind us.

We walked a few minutes on a wide, easy path through the trees, and we finally arrived at a large, round, stone pavilion. Soft draperies flowing from between the pillars were puffing out in the gentle evening breeze, and the wafting smells of grilled meats made my stomach rumble.

“Go ahead, Master Morgan. The Prince awaits you inside.”

I mounted the steps, and entered.

The interior of the pavilion was a feast for the eyes: the floor was covered in soft mats and the benches were covered in pillows of all sorts of shapes and sizes. Every colour under the sun was represented; rich reds, bright blues, pale golds, electric oranges and soft greens should have clashed but instead just worked harmoniously together. A low table had been placed near one of the benches, and on it was a small charcoal grill, a number of drinks in ice buckets, and plates and platters of meats, cheeses, fruit and vegetables. Hanging from the ceiling were metal spheres and cylinders pierced with decorative holes; sweet smoke drifted from them that would help keep flying insects away.

The Prince was partially reclined on some pillows on the bench near the grill and he had a few skewers cooking.

“Sorry, Master Morgan. I was getting a little hungry and thought I might grill a bit of meat while I waited. Come, lay next to me; these are almost done.”

The Prince looked absolutely stunning. He was wearing a fine linen button-up shirt and slightly heavier linen pants that tied at the waist. Both were white and contrasted highly against his darkly-tanned olive skin tone. He looked so relaxed and human, I had a hard time reconciling him with the man who earlier raged at me thinking I was blackmailing him.

He smiled at me. “Problem?”

“Err, um, no, um, Sire? Or, umm, Lang?”

“Lang’s fine. So, slip off your shoes and come and relax.”

I did as asked, and sat next to him. Before I forgot, I wished to ask him about the pillows.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“The pillow. The pillows.”

“Ah, yes. With the all the confusion about the letter, they’d slipped my mind. Do you like them?”

“I do, but…”

“Why two?”

“Yes. Especially since Mistress Damienne made a comment, and the other night you kept asking me about why I wanted a pillow.”

The Prince flipped the skewers of meat over on the grill. “Among the wealthy, there comes a point where expensive gifts carry little meaning. Large pieces of jewellery, thoroughbred horses, or rare trinkets are all things the wealthy can already buy themselves, and if one were to buy such things for another then it is considered ostentatious and gauche, with you being looked upon as being bourgeois. Now, simple, inexpensive, and thoughtful gifts are looked on much more approvingly. A hand picked flower, a cup of coffee, or a homemade dessert are much more highly valued.

“Some people attribute special meaning to gifts; certain flowers mean certain emotions for example. Now, giving a person a pillow means you wish to spend many nights with them: you are giving a pillow to ensure you are not imposing on their generosity by making sure there is a pillow for your head when you visit. Asking for a pillow is asking for the person to spend many nights with you at your home, ostensibly to give them the opportunity to do so if they were unaware. It is an old tradition, and not much used anymore; in fact I’ve not heard it used while I’ve been alive. However, I thought perhaps you heard of the tradition and wished to be subtle about your desires. That is why I asked you about the pillow and Mistress Damienne assumed you were being forward. Mistress Damienne is high-born and has probably learned the same things I have.”

Oh, Gods. I had unexpectedly revealed my desires to be with the Prince to everyone.

He pulled the skewers off the grill, and put a few on a plate for me. “Don’t look so horrified, little one. No one else in the hall knew what I guessed you were saying and Mistress Damienne had probably read over the list of servant requests and jumped to conclusions. As I said, it is not a common tradition, very rare even among the wealthy, and has not been used for many, many years.

“Now, I gave you two pillows because I am following tradition. The first pillow was your Servant Bonus, and so doesn’t really count. The second pillow is me requesting to spend time with you; hopefully many days and nights. You’ve certainly captured my attention, and I wish to see what the future holds for us.”

I stopped a skewer mid-air to my mouth. I could not believe what the Prince was saying.

“Eat, little one. We can talk more later. In fact, we have much to discuss about all sorts of topics, but there is nothing that cannot wait.”

I just looked at the skewer in my hand. This seemed so much more than what he asked me in the hallway en route to the Housekeeping office. Then, I was hoping that I’d be an occasional bed-mate, although I truly expected it to happen rarely. Now, the pillows seem to convey a much different message; one with more depth and breadth.

“Is the meat cooked to your liking? You can cook some that are more to your taste if those don’t appeal.”

“No, umm, it’s just that I’m overwhelmed.” I replaced the skewer on the plate as my hunger seemed to have flown away.

“How so?” he said around a mouthful of meat.

“You’re the Prince.”

He nodded.

“I’m…nothing,” I said as I gripped my plate tightly.

He reached over and lightly rested his hand on my thigh. “Never say you are nothing, little one. Never.”

“But even you call me ‘little one’ like I barely take up space, when in truth I’m no shorter than you.”

“Oh, little…I mean, Morgan,” he sighed. “Look at me.”

I turned my head and raised my eyes to his.

“I’m sorry. I don’t call you ‘little one’ to impugn your masculinity or manhood and I know you are no shorter than me. But something of you brings out the possessive, protective and dominant sides of me to the front, full force. Not only that, I feel like a hulking lug next to you. I meant no harm, and will no longer call you that if you do not wish it.”

I searched his eyes, and saw pain. “It’s fine. I know you did not mean to hurt me; I am just too sensitive.” I sighed. “Indeed, I am much too feminine: too slender, too pale, cry too easily, take things to heart too much.”

“You are not too sensitive nor are you too feminine. I wish more men were like you: you genuinely care, you are willing to learn from another, you want to be gentle. Too many men despair appearing soft in any way that they become rough know-it-alls who would not listen to criticism even if it benefitted them greatly. As to your body shape; well, you know how I feel about that. You are no woman, and truthfully, the feminine body does not appeal to me. You, however, appeal to me greatly.” His mouth lifted in lust.

I just had to return his smile.

“That’s better. Now, I repeat, you are not ‘nothing’. You are very much someone, a man, I want to get to know better. Do you think I would honestly arrange this if you were ‘nothing’?”

“Perhaps not.”

He gave me a wink. “Good answer. Now, do you wish different skewers? You can create your own if you wish; there are fruits and vegetables that are delicious grilled too.”

Our meal continued on in an easy and gentle way, eating when and how we desired. Sometime during the evening, Lang started feeding me tidbits here and there of foods he wanted me to try. By the end, I was lying between his legs, my back to his chest, and he was feeding me completely; he chose what foods he wanted me to try, and I let him place the food in my mouth. It was pleasant in the way that I didn’t have to think; I enjoyed that Lang was simply taking care of me.

“I’m getting full,” I finally said, and he hummed that he was filling up as well.

He wrapped his arms around my chest, and we sat there letting our food digest in comfort and silence as the evening approached. Close to sunset he whispered in my ear, “Handsome one…”

“You can go back to calling me ‘little one’ if you wish,” I interrupted.

“Only if you would enjoy me doing so.”

“I do, now that I understand better.”

“Fine, then. Little one, do you know where we are?”

“One of the pavilions within the boundaries of the palace grounds.”

“Yes, but specifically?”

I looked through the drapes; a lightly wooded forest surrounded the pavilion. “No, Si…Lang, I’m not sure.”

He bent around me and kissed me on the lips. “A kiss for every time you catch yourself and call me ‘Lang’ instead of ‘Sire’. Well, if walked but a few metres through the trees, we’d be on the West Lawn.”

The West Lawn was a part of the palace grounds that was open to employees and visitors alike. It was a very popular place during these late summer evenings; it appealed to families for its large open spaces and to lovers for its hidden alcoves in clumps of trees.

Lang carefully started rubbing my chest with his fingertips, gliding over the finely knitted light v-neck sweater I was wearing, and desire started to flick to life in my groin. “You know,” he continued, whispering softly, “it would not be unimaginable that people would be walking through the woods this lovely evening.”

His hands found their way to my waist then he slinked his hands under my sweater and then over my abdomen, and I took in a quick breath. “Imagine a handsome young man, out for a cooling stroll in the woods.”

He pulled the edge of my sweater higher, allowing him easier access to my stomach and lower chest, and then he trailed his fingers over my exposed skin. “He sees a gaily decorated pavilion and delicious smells pull him closer. He’s thirsty; he forgot his water bottle, and perhaps those inside the pavilion would be kind enough to share some drink with him.”

I could see the situation clearly: the young man approaching a pavilion, his throat parched from the heat. Lang scrunched up my sweater even more, so it was bunched under my armpits, my chest now open to the air. Smooth fingertips glided over my now erect nipples, and he lightly stroked each in a matching rhythm. I sucked in another breath through my teeth. Gods, that felt good. He played gently with my nipples using tweaks and pats and circling of fingertips, and desire swirled within me.

“Lean forward, little one. I think you’d be much more comfortable if your sweater were off.” I did so, and he pulled my sweater off in one smooth motion. “Now, lean back into me.” I relaxed my back into his warmth. “Better?” he said, as he returned to playing with my nipples.

“Gods, yes,” I mumbled.

Gradually, Lang alternated playing with one nipple while the other hand stroked my chest and my side, making me wiggle. I wanted to arch my nipple into his fingertip, but that drew me away from what his other hand was doing. If I tried to bow into the hand that stroked my side, I lost contact with the hand that played with my nipple.

“Wiggle less; let me take control over the pleasure from your chest.”

I tried, but everything was so arousing and sensitive, I couldn’t help but twitch some. “Better, little one. Just relax and let me do this.”

I took a deep breath, and made a concerted effort to relax. Relaxing seemed to take some the edge off my arousal, but somehow also permitted it to grow richer and wider through my body. My breath started coming out in puffs and my hips rocked.

“I want you to do something for me that would make me very pleased. Push down your pants and underwear and please yourself with your own hands. I crave to see how you take care of your needs, little one.”

I stilled. “We’re outside, though.” Suddenly, his little story about a random man walking through the woods brought me to reality.

Both of his hands squeezed my nipples and I moaned. “Indeed, little one, someone near us would hear you moan like that. Now, please, remove your clothing as I asked.”

Oh, Gods. Part of me was scared that I would be caught naked, but a larger part of me wanted and craved to not only be naked, but be naked here outside where we could be caught and because Lang wanted it so. I pushed my pants and underwear down to my ankles while Lang distracted me by stroking my chest; once done I lay back again.

“Touch yourself, sweet Morgan.”

It hadn't the timbre of an order, but my brain heard it as one, and my groin throbbed. I took my hard shaft in my hand and began stroking myself. It didn’t take many strokes for my arousal to spin ever higher.

“Good, little one.” He nuzzled my ear, oh Gods. “Now, imagine our unknown young man approaching the pavilion, and he hears soft words spoken and moans of arousal floating from this place. He is curious; dare he look inside?”

“Please,” I started to whisper. Lang’s hands on my chest, my own hand arousing my cock as only I knew how, and the image of a man about to watch something sexual was driving my arousal forward like a steed at full run.

“Take your hand away from your cock, Morgan.”

“What? Sire?”

“Tsk, tsk, no kiss for that.”

“Lang. Lang.”

“A bit late, but better late than never.” He licked my ear. “Now, release your grip from your cock, and place your hands on your thighs.”

I did so, wanting only to follow his request and please him.

“Now, our young man continues to hear sounds of lust drift from the pavilion. His cock hears the sounds as well, and starts to plump. Perhaps, if he could watch unseen, he might witness something that could fill his fantasies during long, cold winter nights when he is alone in his bed.”

Lang was now stroking my chest, my sides, and my abdomen, and I tried desperately to stay still, but it was no use. My cock ached for a touch, any touch; I could feel the soft wind lick around me and keep me aroused, but it was not enough to push me on.

“The young man approaches the pavilion stealthily, and hides behind a pillar. He crouches down and carefully moves the drape aside to peer into the softly lit space. He could see two men reclining, the one sitting up a bit straighter was clothed, the other naked between his legs, his back resting on the first man’s chest and his hands on his own thighs.

I groaned. He was describing us, like the man was watching us. He was watching us.

Lang chuckled. “You certainly didn’t lie when you said you wanted to be watched, did you?”

I shook my head fervently from side to side. “Please, Si…I mean Lang. Please. Please. Please,” I begged.

Lang sucked on my neck, which inflamed me higher. Gods, I just wanted to touch myself, for Lang to touch my cock, even the mystery man could touch it if I would just be allowed release…

“Not yet, little one. Do you not want to hear the end of the tale?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean…please!”

“Soon, little one.” He pinched my nipples carefully. “Now, the naked man was the one who was producing the moans. His cock was thick and hard and a red so deep, it seemed impossible that it was not already spurting its essence all over. The man supporting the naked man was stroking him all over, speaking into his ear, and whatever words were being spoken were making the naked man moan in delight. Every so often, the young man could see tiny little drops of moisture appear on the red and hard cock, even at his distance.

“Now, our young man himself was virile and healthy, and had not had a bed-mate in some time. His own cock was growing at a rapid rate, and desire ached within him. The two reclining men seemed unaware of him, and the situation was so arousing, he pushed his own pants down, licked his hand, gripped his cock and started to stroke.”

I was hot and flushed and sweating and all I wanted was to be touched and to release. I seemed so close, and the moans that bubbled forth from me were mixed with both desire and frustration.

“Gods, Lang, please. Please. I beg you.” I couldn’t take much more. I could feel wetness leaking from my tip onto my belly, and my hips writhed searching for friction for my release.

“Now, Morgan; touch yourself for me."

Finally! My hand went to my cock faster than a blink of an eye, and I started stroking, my arousal skating along a knife's edge.

"Our young man’s desire was spurred on by the sight before him and the aroused man’s moans shot arousal directly to his cock. He got close quickly, but seemed unable to make himself come. If only the cock of the naked man would explode in release, that would help tip him over the edge. Thankfully, the clothed man whispered something to the naked man, and the young man saw the naked man grab his cock and stroke himself to orgasm. Our young man came as soon as he saw the first white stripe land across the clothed man’s face. Come, little one; do it for me."

Some twists of my nipples, a few more strokes of my cock and an image of a young man coming while watching me orgasm was all it took for me to explode like a cannon filled with cream. The first spurt hit my face, the rest, my abdomen, but it could have shot to heaven for all I cared.

“When our young man gathered his wits about him, he looked up, and saw the naked man fully spent and the clothed man give him a sly wink. Our young man winked in return, straightened himself up, and wandered off, a different thirst satisfied than the original one he sought relief for.”

I hummed in vague reply. "Thank you, Lang. That was beyond belief."

It was such an incredible experience and the climax so fulfilling, I felt empty but floating pleasantly on a soft cloud of release.

Lang kissed my head softly and held me close until I returned to earth and noticed the soft wind had taken on a chill edge.

“Cold?” Lang asked.

“A bit cool, is all.”

“Then, let’s get you reclothed.” Lang had wiped me clean while I had been drifting in bliss, so I put back on my sweater and pulled up my briefs and my pants.

“Hungry?” he asked.

When I shook my head no, he said, “Well, then, do you mind if we leave? The guards find it difficult to do their duties adequately out here when the sun sets, and I’m a bit chilled myself.”

I was sad to see our time out here end, but I had a spark of hope that our evening might continue once we returned to the Prince’s suite. I’d learned a valuable lesson the night before—pay attention to your bed-mate’s needs and not just your own—and Lang had not yet come himself.

He helped me up off the bench and we replaced our shoes. I gave one last regretful glance at the pavilion, then we strolled off down the soft path in the woods.

 


	6. The End of Dinner But the Beginning of Something Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Want to come in and see my etchings? 
> 
> Yes, please!
> 
> But first, we must talk!
> 
> Ooookaaay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of action in this chapter as it more about both men learning new things before any more hot n' heavy stuff can continue.
> 
> I end up using dialogue quite a bit to help Lanston explain things to Morgan because, I guess, I have the opportunity to have a character get a good start on his sexual life in a healthy, positive way. So many times in real life, things are not like that.

As we walked, a few thoughts floated through my mind and a bud of hope blossomed in my chest.

I felt safe with Lang; what just happened might have seemed risky, but since we were not interrupted, I assumed he’d organized us to remain unseen. I may have been an innocent in the ways of sex, but I wasn’t stupid.

As well, if Lang wanted to continue our evening in his suite, I wanted to try and be a bit more bold. I thought perhaps if Lang would give me a few tips, I might try sucking his cock.

I was unsure about anal sex; from what I’d overheard in numerous lines in the cafeteria or in the office, anal sex was all about “splitting them in half”, “fucking them so hard they can’t sit for a week” and “pounding the come from them”. That did not appeal, but if it did appeal to Lang, I’d willing do that for him, no matter the pain or discomfort.

We arrived at the Prince's back door, and Lang stopped a moment, and looked to his feet. “Did you enjoy your evening with me, Morgan?”

“Lang, it was the best evening I’ve ever had. You brought a fantasy to life,” I replied in truth.

“Good, then. Good.”

My Gods, the Prince looked nervous.

“Umm, do you wish to go home?” he continued. “I mean, I’m not pushing you out or anything, but if you’re tired, you’re more than welcome to leave.”

“Lang,” I said softly, afraid to hear the answer. “Do you actually wish me to go, and are unable to ask me? Do you dread spending more time with me? Did I displease you?”

“Gods, no!” His head whipped up to look at me. “I want you, desperately, to stay with me for the rest of the evening, and I would die of joy if you wished to stay again the whole night. I just don’t want to force. You see, I’ve been told in the past that I move too quickly, and don’t wish to scare you.”

“You’re not moving too fast for me,” I replied. “I do want to spend more time with you, as long as you’ll have me.”

“Well, if that were truly the case, I’d wish you’d stay until Monday morning,” he mumbled offhandedly.

“Is that the truth?” I whispered.

“Of course it is! Gods, Morgan, I want to carry you into my suite, lock the door behind us, and forget the world for the whole weekend.”

I dropped my eyes and blushed. I hadn’t dare dream of such a situation, but if it were an option…

“That look on your face…you wish that too, Morgan? Truthfully? Say something, please!”

I took a deep breath; I was an adult, and it was time to start acting and speaking as such. I reached out, and took one of Lang’s hands in mine. “Truthfully, Langston, I would be beyond happy if I could stay the weekend. In fact,” I attempted shooting him a lusty look, “there are some things I would like to try. With you. If you’d help me do better like you helped me with the kissing.”

Either the words or the look worked, and an expression of heat and stunned awe filled Lang’s face.

“Oh.”

“Indeed, Lang. Oh. And if I’m not completely mistaken, O can mean orgasm, correct?”

He nodded slowly, his expression unchanged.

“Then perhaps not just one O. Hopefully a few O’s. I wonder how many…”

He pulled me towards him, a passionate kiss interrupting my words. When he released me from the kiss, he said, “Morgan, stay with me the weekend. Don’t leave until you absolutely have to go to work.”

“I’d love to,” and I took another risk; I reached out and cupped Lang’s cock and balls through his pants. “I’d really love to, Langston Long Stone,” and I squeezed lightly, then carefully pulled my hand away.

“Shit,” he said, and his eyes grew large. “Guards Marcus and Tayno?” he said, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Yes, Sire?” I heard from behind us.

“Go around, please, gentlemen, to return to your posts.”

“Yes, Sire,” the guards replied and I barely heard them walk off.

He unlocked his door in a flash, and guided me in. After locking the door behind him, he pulled my head towards his and gave me a deep, rich kiss. Our gazes connected; his forest green eyes appeared even darker due to the largeness of his pupils.

“May I ask a favour of you, little one?” he sighed out softly.

“Anything, Long Stone,” I replied breathlessly.

He sucked a quick breath in. “Gods, when you call me ‘Long Stone’…”

“I’ll call you ‘Long Stone’ whenever you want, Long Stone,” I smirked. I tentatively moved my hips towards his, and rocked up against him.

“Keep saying and doing that, and I’ll never ask you my request…”

I pulled sharply away from him and snapped my gaze to the floor, thinking I had pushed too far. “Sorry, Sire. I didn’t mean to…”

He grabbed my hips and pulled them back to his. “Look at me again, little one.”

I lifted my eyes to his.

“Do not feel sorry, Morgan. I am not admonishing you; I’m simply playing. You’re simply quite distracting, and in a very good and sensual way.”

He kissed me lightly on my lips, never breaking our gaze.

“Now, my request.”

“Yes? Anything you wish, Si…I mean Long Stone.”

He gave me a quick peck and a wink. “Excellent, Morgan. Now, the letter I wrote you…”

My stomach dropped and I felt instantly uneasy.

“Oh, Gods, no, little one. I don’t want you to read it; I’d like to read it to you, if you’re willing.”

Thankfully, my stomach returned to normal, and I nodded; I was curious as to what he could have written that took up pages. He took my hand in his, and led me to his living room. There was a cheerful fire in the fireplace, and I noticed the envelope containing the letter sitting prominently on the coffee table. Lang and I sat on the sofa, Lang encouraging me to cuddle in close. He picked up the envelope, removed the letter, and started reading it aloud.

"My dearest Master Morgan. Forgive my neglect, I forgot to remind you to take your pillow with you when you left the other day. May it bring you sweetest dreams, hopefully some of them containing me. Do you understand so far?"

No.

Oh, Gods.

Oh, Gods, no.

With the Prince asking me if I understood, painful memories surfaced of school teachers asking me continuously if I understood what they were saying. I always understood what was told me; I was not simple, I just couldn't read.

I mumbled an assent, and he continued. He spoke sweetly about my body, but every so often he broke the flow of his words and the sensual mood by asking me if I understood. The breaks in his reading began to irritate me to the point where, instead of letting the irritation turn to anger, I simply blocked out all the words and simply listened to his tone and murmured responses as I thought appropriate.

"Am I offending you? Boring you?" Those words broke through my disconnect.

"No, Sire."

"Hmm. Back to 'Sire'. You look far away, little one. Tell me, what are you thinking?"

I bit my lip. I certainly did not want Lang to know my feelings of discomfort, so I just murmured, "It's nothing. Please, continue."

"You, little one, are the worst liar I've ever laid eyes on. Please, if we are to be together in any fashion, I would always prefer hearing a hard truth than an easy lie. Now, do I go too far? Make you uncomfortable in my descriptions of you? Please, tell me your thoughts; do not fear to hurt me."

I thought a few moments. I had spoken to no one about my inability to read, and truly thought no one would care about that or how much I comprehended.

"I do not know what to say or how to begin."

"Just say your thoughts, is all."

I tried to collect my thoughts into some sort of order. I figured perhaps what he thought of me might be a good place to start. "Do you think me simple?"

"Of course not!"

"Even though I cannot read?"

"My answer is still no."

"Then why do you ask if I understand what you are reading to me? Except for a few nights ago when I was unsure of your intentions to command me in the bedroom, have I given you the impression I do not understand you?"

"Oh! Oh, Gods, Morgan. Forgive me. I just wanted to make sure you..."

"Understood what you were reading. I do understand, Lang. Every word. And if there is a word I do not understand, I will ask you."

He hugged me close and sighed. "You are a wonder, little one. May I begin again?"

"Indeed, Long Stone."

This time, Lang read to me without stopping. He spoke to me of the beauty and elegance of my body: my sweet face, my graceful torso, my narrow hips, my legs that appeared to have no end, and even the fineness of my fingers. He next described how he'd like to spend all the time available to him learning every part of my body: what excited me, which parts were sensitive, how quickly or slowly he could make me come. I blushed at some of the words he used, and occasionally heard a light chuckle from him when my blushes were at their most intense. He continued by asking me to dinner that evening; I assumed because of the way he wrote it, I had been unable to read it earlier. He finished by requesting I send confirmation that I would or would not like to eat with him by calling Mistress Arlene, his personal assistant.

"Well, Morgan; that was my letter to you. Thoughts?"

"That was beautiful. I cannot believe you wrote those things for me."

"I wrote those words to you, dear Morgan. It is easier for me to write them than to speak the words, although now that I know you cannot read..."

"Simply write them and read them to me, if you like."

He collected me into his arms, and rubbed his cheek against the top of my head. "A grand idea if I ever heard one. Now, little one, I have told you a few things from my heart that I wish to experience with you. Do you have any thoughts about me?"

I took a deep breath in. "I...err, am not so eloquent."

"Forthrightness can be its own eloquence. Go ahead, Morgan. I crave hearing what you desire."

Lang seemed to speak words of desire so easily that my throat closed up in shyness. I had never spoken words such as I wanted to say to anyone. I did not know if my mouth would even form the words.

"Morgan, pleasure and desire flows more easily when people are on the same path. I do not wish to guess with you, little one. Besides, did you not enjoy it when I spoke to you?"

"I did, though the things you said made me blush."

"I only wish the same: to hear that you desire me too."

“I do desire you."

"Then tell me how you do."

"I wish to learn to suck you," I said as quietly as I could, as if answering softly would make it easier.

"Sucking sounds good. Where, little one? My elbow?"

"Err, umm, no."

"No, hmm? Then perhaps my knee?"

"No."

"Then tell me, little one. Speak to me of where you want to suck me."

I took a deep breath in. ”Your...cock. Teach me how to suck your...cock."

He chuckled softly, but I heard no sharpness in his tone. "Good, little one. Gods, to see your ripe mouth around my cock; it makes me hard just thinking of it. Anything else?"

I pulled away from him, straightening up and mentally girding myself as for battle. "Anal sex."

"Why do you pull from me and speak this way?"

"It is not something that appeals, but I know it is a necessary act between male lovers. I would do this with you, willingly and gladly. I never wish to disappoint you. ”

He rested one hand on my knee. “Morgan, little one. First off, let me say that there are no necessary acts between lovers. My scribe is not awaiting beyond my door with a list to check off to ensure we ‘have sex’.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “But, how else do men have sex? I mean, I understand how it works between lovers of the opposite sex…”

“Let me make something clear. Between any lovers, same sex or opposite, there are no necessary sex acts, except in the case of desiring a baby. Everything else is up to the people within the relationship, and no two relationships are the same. Understand?”

I nodded, but my brow remained creased. “But how…”

“As long as both partners are in agreement, and there is pleasure, the how is however they wish it to be.”

“Lang, please. You’re confusing me.”

He kissed me. Twice. “Two kisses: one calling me Lang, and the other for speaking of your confusion. Saying such a thing helps me, and us, little one. Well done.”

“Thank you, but…”

“Back to the topic at hand. Let me speak another way. Do you feel we have had sex together? You spent the night in my bed and we pleased each other to release, and this evening, we pleased each other but in a very different way.”

“We have had release, but I don’t think we have had sex. I mean, we’ve done sexual things, but…”

“But we both had pleasure in sexual ways. Is that not sex then?”

“Yes? I mean, no?”

“Tell me, what do you think sex is?”

“One partner fucks the other. Excuse my crudeness, but I have no other words.”

“The words you are looking for are ‘penetrative sex’. One partner penetrates the other.”

“Yes. That is what I mean.”

“But what about two women? Can they not have sex because one cannot penetrate the other?”

Oh. “I…hadn’t thought about that.” Now I was completely confused.

“Look, Morgan. I do not limit myself in saying ‘sex is when I put my cock in another man’s ass’. Sex and intimacy is so much more than that. For me, ‘having sex’ is more akin to ‘having sexual pleasure with another’ than any one act. Is that clearer?”

“It is, somewhat.” It was, but I knew I needed to think more on it.

“Now, anal sex. Will you tell me why it doesn’t appeal? I’m not saying it should, I just want to understand why.”

“From what I have overheard, it sounds very painful.”

“Explain.”

“The idea of not being able to sit for a week, being split in half or being pounded…does not appeal. But, again, I would do so willingly and gladly for you.”

Lang lifted his hand off my knee and rubbed his face. “Tell me, where did you hear such things?”

“I overhear. People seem to not notice me, and are willing to speak freely to their friends around me. I have heard quite a bit, most similar to what I told you.”

He grabbed my hand and rested it on his thigh. “Morgan, those are fools who are braggarts wishing to impress their friends with their so-called prowess. Anal sex can be about those things, but is not solely about those things. In the right situations, with the right preparations, it is a highly enjoyable and intimate act. There is some pain, but it gives way to pleasure. Now, I have a few more questions. First, explain to me what you know about anal sex. Second, explain why you think you would be the one to receive my cock, and not the other way around?”

The second question took me completely off guard. My mouth opened and closed like a dying fish on a beach as I tried to form an answer.

“You looked shocked, little one.”

I swallowed and nodded.

“Why?”

“Your, umm, second question.”

“Yes? You were expecting to be penetrated by me?”

I nodded.

“Can you explain why you thought that?”

“You’re, I mean, compared to me you’re, umm, more manly,” I finally trailed off.

“So only those who are ‘manly’ should penetrate their partner?”

“Umm, yes?”

“And ‘manly’ men should not be penetrated?”

I nodded again.

“Look. Being manly has nothing to do with whether one likes being penetrated or not. You consider me manly?”

“Of course.”

“But I enjoy, greatly, both penetrating and being penetrated.”

My eyes bulged from my head. “No!”

Lang leaned back. “Does that change your view of me? Am I less manly to you now you know this?”

“Of course not, but…”

“But what?”

I sighed. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m not trying to confuse you, little one. I just want you to understand, that’s all. Now, can you answer my first question? What do you know about anal sex.”

“A man puts his cock into another person’s ass.”

“Anything else?”

“No? Should there be?”

“At its most basic, yes, anal sex is a cock in an ass. However, there is so much more to it. As I said earlier, with preparation, anal sex is very pleasurable, but without it, it is usually very painful and may cause damage. Usually, the preparation involves stretching the muscles by using first one, then multiple fingers so penetration does not hurt as much. But fingers can be their own pleasure. Fingers are more dextrous and can do more things than a cock. As well, one can put other things, like plugs and dildos, in the anus as well. Are you aware of those things?”

“Sort of?”

“Well, then, I will show you some things later. Just know that plugs and dildos are items, made of glass, metal or plastic, and can give pleasure too. The other thing that can be done is that one person licks, tongues, sucks and kisses the anus of the other.”

“You put your mouth on someone’s ass?!”

“And I’ve never gotten sick, either, if that is your concern. I’ve also been fortunate in having clean partners; so having shit in my mouth has never occurred. It is not something I would ever force another to do to me unwillingly, though. Many cannot cross that line, and that is completely fine. My life doesn’t end if I’m not rimmed.”

“Rimmed?”

“Slang for using a tongue on someone’s ass.”

My mind was whirling. I had no idea sex could be so complicated.

“Morgan, Morgan. I had no desire to confuse you tonight. I only wished to learn of you and your desires.” He pulled me back into his arms, my head on his chest, his heartbeat soothing me in comfort. He threaded his fingers though my hair, which only relaxed me further. “Is there anything else I should know? Anything you wish to learn about?”

The fantasy that brought us to this point floated through my mind.

“I can practically hear your brain working. What are you thinking of?”

I swallowed and pushed on. “You commanding me. We haven’t talked of that yet.”

Lang sighed, but continued to pet my hair. “Little one, that is…very complicated. It adds a layer of complexity that I am unsure we are ready for yet.”

“Why?” Being relaxed somehow made me bold. “You tell me what to do or not to do, and I do what you say. You told me earlier to remove my hand from my cock, and I did so until you permitted me to continue. Is that not the same?”

He sighed again. “It is, and it isn’t. What you are asking for requires us to have much, much better communication than we have right now. Just a few minutes ago, you could barely ask to suck my cock. I need to know you will tell me of your needs clearly and freely before I feel comfortable ordering you around.”

“But, I don’t understand.”

“What confounds you?”

“Am I not asking you what I want now?”

“You are, but you are focusing on just one tiny piece of a much larger picture.”

I stayed silent, thinking on what Lang just said. I still didn’t quite understand what the problem was or why he would not do what we both wanted.

Then Lang pulled me so our faces were level, and he placed a soft kiss on my lips. I melted into him, desiring more of his delicious kisses. He tucked his face into my neck and suckled me gently, warming embers of desire in my groin.

“Little one,” he whispered sensually into my ear. “What would you do for me right now?”

“Anything. Anything you desire, Lang.”

He nibbled my ear. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

He licked my ear from the lobe to the top then flicked in my ear wetly. I chuckled at the sensation.

“What if right now I ordered you to permit me to penetrate your succulent ass with my cock without preparation?”

I stiffened involuntarily. Why would he ask me to do something I was now aware would cause me pain? He licked me gently behind my ear and I gasped in delight.

“Would you deny me? I am ordering you, little one. Remember that.”

I took a deep breath. “I told you, I would do so willingly and gladly.”

He kissed me carefully on the lips and pulled away, his hands on my upper arms, his eyes focused on mine. “And that is why you are not ready for me ordering you around. I told you before, I will never hurt you. What I ordered you to do would cause you intense pain and quite possibly injure you. Would you trust me again, after I had hurt you so badly that you’d bleed for days?”

I wanted to say I would, but I suddenly realized I wouldn’t. I could no longer be able to trust him if he’d hurt me so.

“Now you understand. I never, ever want to cause you to no longer trust me. With another bed-mate, one more experienced and in a different situation, I could give them the previous order with little concern for injury. Perhaps, sometime in the distant future, you may also wish to follow that order, but most definitely not now. For the moment, your trust in me is blind, not based on any solid foundation of understanding and knowledge of me, my abilities or my trustworthiness.  Now, please, little one. Can we leave the topic of me ordering you around for the moment?”

“But how will I know when we are ready?”

“We will talk about it. We need to talk about many more things and we will discuss, in an ongoing fashion, how ready we both are, our trust in each other, our desires and our dreams and our fantasies. Let me say though, I am not saying that I am not ordering you around because of you. I am uncomfortable and unprepared to begin such a type of a relationship with you. I am the one who is hesitant. I am the one who is unsure. I am the one who needs time, to make myself at ease with you. Do you understand? I want our relationship to grow strong and healthy from a good foundation made of mutual trust, understanding and desires, instead of one made of empty air, lust and miscommunication which will crumble away at the first signs of trouble. Now, I beg you, my Morgan, please leave the topic rest.”

I sighed and hummed an agreement.

“Anything else, little one?”

“Nothing of note.” I thought about his comments about communication, and as much as I struggled to say what I wanted, I had a deep desire for it become easier to speak to him. “May I say something?”

“Anything you want, as long as it is not treasonous.” He winked at me. “Go ahead.”

Shyness rushed through me and blood rushed to my cheeks, but I ignored them. “I want to learn what pleases you. With my mouth.” Oh, Gods, that came out awkward.

Lang seemed to relax back into the sofa; unnoticed tension seeping from him and his eyelids drooping to half open.

“How? And where? When?”

“How?”

“Mmm, little one. How. As in ‘what position do you wish me in?’ Standing? Reclining, as I am now? Laying down?”

Oh. I had a choice to make, but was unsure which one would be best. “Is there one you prefer?”

“I just like blow jobs. Each person finds different positions better or worse. Is there a way you imagined? A way you dreamed of me?”

I flicked through my mind’s catalogue of fantasies, and there was one that appealed to me most. I took a deep breath in, my cheeks reddening further and my stomach starting to churn. “Yes. I would greatly desire you splayed wide in front of me, laying comfortably, while I kneel between your legs.”

His eyelids drifted even further closed, so that I could see his eyes were but slits. “May I ask why that position?”

“Because I wish you relaxed. I wish to take care of you without you needing to support yourself upright. That is why.”

“Mmm, I probably should have guessed, with your other tendencies. Now, little one. Where and when would you like to do such a thing?”

I glanced down his body, and noticed the beautiful swelling in his groin. “Your bedroom, in your bed. Now. I mean, if it pleases you, Lang.”

A slow, lusty grin filled his face, and an eyebrow twitched with amusement. “Oh, it pleases me. Morgan, you please me.”

And in the blink of an eye, he had risen from the sofa and had tossed me over his shoulder. I squealed in surprise and he patted my ass, the vibrations of which travelled directly to my cock. I squirmed helplessly as he restrained me, and he laughed all the way to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite line in this chapter:
> 
> Please, if we are to be together in any fashion, I would always prefer hearing a hard truth than an easy lie.
> 
> (And wouldn't life be a lot easier if we were all able to both give and accept hard truths.)


	7. Bad Night but a Happier Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, life is two step forwards, one step back.
> 
> Plus fiber content!

I had to laugh in reply as he deposited me, bouncing, on the bed. He was over top of me in a flash, and started kissing me.

“You,” he said, then gave me another kiss. “Are.” Kiss. “Very.” Kiss. “Brave.” He finished with a long, wet, sensual kiss which had my hips unwillingly rocking into his.

Once he released me from the kiss, I said, “You said you wanted good communication. I thought I might try harder to do so.”

“Still,” he said, his forehead resting on mine and his eyes looking in to mine, “considering earlier you could barely ask to suck my cock, I’d say you’ve come far in a short period of time. I know it was not easy for you, but it gets easier. Well done, little one, well done.” Another quick kiss and he rolled off me.

He nudged me with an elbow as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You know, it’s a lot easier to be unclothed for this,” he said with a wink.

All of a sudden, my shyness boomeranged into full blossom. Even though he had already seen me naked twice, hesitancy curled within me.

“Err, um, of course,” I stammered out, pulling myself to the edge of the bed, my legs dangling off the side.

Lang tossed his shirt on the floor, and said, “Nervous? There’s no reason to be.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?” He stood, untied his pants, and let them slide effortlessly to the floor, his underwear quickly following suit.

I blushed and sighed. I was not naturally outgoing, and I couldn’t understand how Lang got naked in front of me so effortlessly. I placed my hands on my face to attempt to somehow hide my shyness.

“What, little one?” Lang said, sitting next to me and pulling one of my hands down to his.

“This is so easy for you. It is not so easy with me.” I felt like my earlier boldness had drained whatever strength I had and I wished to curl up and hide.

“What is?”

“Being bold. Being in control. Being naked in front of someone whose existence you barely knew of but a few days ago. Being able to ask freely and easily what you desire, what you dream of.”

“I am who I am, that is all,” he said, confused.

Unexpected, intense emotion flooded me. “But how do you do it?” My voice became shrill. “How do you ask for what you want? How do you get what you want? I’ve asked and asked and no one will give it to me!”

From nowhere, panic slammed into me head on.

“How, Sire! Tell me! How!” Embarrassingly, I burst into tears and I ripped my hand from Lang’s covered my face and cried.

I felt him grab the duvet from behind me, and wrap it around my shoulders. I heard him pad away from me, then return a short time later and sat on the bed next to me. Eventually, I was able to control my tears and stop them, but my heart was low. Gods, how I’d shamed myself.

Lang handed me a wet cloth, and I wiped my face with it. He then handed me a glass of juice, and told me to drink it all in small sips, and I did so. He took the empty glass from me, placed it on the bedside table and returned to sit next to me.

“Morgan. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth a few times.”

I did as he said. The panic had disappeared, but left an overwhelming fatigue in its place.

“Can you speak?” he asked.

“Yes, Sire,” I mumbled.

“I wish to understand what just happened here. Do you think you can speak of it, or do you wish to wait?”

I took in another deep breath and blew it out. “I will try.”

“Good man. May I hold your hand, Morgan?”

I nodded and he carefully picked up my hand and placed it between both of his.

After a few false starts, I began. “Sire, I long ago learned to not ask for anything. Asking for food because I was still hungry got me a beating. Asking for help at school got frustration from the teachers for being ‘unwilling to learn’ and ridicule and bullying from my peers. It was simply easier to close off from the world and ask for nothing, to want nothing. Not a pencil, not a glass of milk. I take what I am given, and no more.

“I have never had a lover, never had a friend, and my family is all dead. I have no one. No one asks me about my holidays, my weekends, my evenings. No one asks me if I am sick or sad or lonely. Not even you noticed me until you thought I forward.

“On top of all of this, you are the first one to ever see me completely naked since I was five. I just cannot understand how it is so effortless for you. You are so beyond my comprehension.” I realized I said too much, gone too far. “Perhaps this was all a mistake and I should go before I make a complete fool of myself.”

I pulled my hand from his, and stood to go.

“Do not go, Master Morgan. Please.”

I turned to the bed, and looked at Lang. There were tears in his eyes, and I frowned. “Why do you cry? I am not one to cry tears over.”

“Oh, little one. You deserved better. So much better. I’m sorry the world has failed you. I beg you, please stay.”

“Why?”

“Because, as your lover and your friend I wish you to stay.”

“Sire? How can you consider me as such?”

The tears remained but a small smile lit his face lightly. “Simply because it is so. I want to spend time with you, both in bed and out, because you intrigue me. Your beauty and your innocence are captivating to me. I want to learn what makes you smile, what makes you tick, what makes you scream out my name. Your life has changed from but a few days ago, and wish to continue to see the paths you take in life. I wish, someday, for you to consider me as friend and lover as well.”

It seemed that what little strength kept me upright flew from me right then, and I collapsed to my knees. Lang scooped me into his arms, and lay me on the bed, tucking me under the duvet, clothing and all. I saw him slide back on his underwear and return to the bed, cuddling close to me. I attempted to un-cocoon myself in an effort to reach for his hip, that I may at least use my hand to give him release. He simply tutted at me, and tucked my hand back under the duvet.

“But Sire,” I argued weakly. “You’ve not come yet tonight and I have. That is unfair.”

“Little one, remember to call me Lang, hmm? Now there are no scorecards between lovers; no tit for tat. Right now, you need some rest, as it has been a day of all sorts of emotions for you. Now, sleep, and we will talk again tomorrow, hmm?”

The warmth of the duvet cocoon and the comfort of having Lang nearby lulled me into a deep and dreamless sleep.

~~~~~

I awoke just past dawn and eventually unwrapped the duvet from around me. Lang was not in bed, and was no where to be found in the room. Had he changed his mind, and no longer wished to stay in my presence?  
  
Hesitantly, I called out, “Lang?” I heard no response, and thought I had scared him off, when his head popped in the doorway, a wide smile on his face. My breath whooshed out in relief.

“Morning, Morgan. Just making some breakfast. Anything in particular you desire?”

I shook my head no, and he smiled. “How do you take your coffee, then?”

“Two cream, two sugar,” I replied, and he winked at me and his head popped back from the doorway.

I eventually got myself upright, had a morning pee, attempted to do something with my hair and rinsed my mouth out with some mouthwash I found on the side of the sink. I could do nothing about my clothing; they were wrinkled beyond belief having slept in them. Perhaps if it was agreeable to Lang, I could run quickly to my chambers and retrieve some clean clothing for the rest of the weekend. That is, if he still wanted me to stay.

Last night’s emotional outburst was something that came out of the blue. I had always been considered “emotional as a girl ready to bleed”, but losing control was not something that had happened since I was a child. I would have been unsurprised, even with Lang’s cheery attitude, if he did not wish me to stay.

I made my way to Lang’s kitchen, where he was dishing up eggs with vegetables on pretty plates. The kitchen table was laden with biscuits, fruit salad, a little vase with late summer flowers, and pitchers of orange and apple juice. Steaming, fragrant coffee had already been poured into mugs.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, placing the plates in front of chairs.

“I will be shortly, after a cup of coffee,” I said, sliding into one of the chairs.

“Then can I keep this warm for you until you are ready?”

I nodded, and he picked up my plate, wrapped it in foil, and placed it in the oven. He slid into a chair opposite me, and I watched him as he dug in eagerly to his eggs.

“Sleep well?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“Surprisingly well. You?” I asked, taking a sip of my absolutely perfect cup of coffee. I sighed in contentment.

Lang shrugged. “Woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. Thought I’d get an early start on breakfast. The orange juice is fresh squeezed too.”

“You did all this?” I was awed. I simply assumed he had the palace kitchen bring him his meals.

He grinned around a mouthful of eggs and nodded. “I love to cook,” he said, swallowing. “I don’t get the opportunity to cook for others much, however.”

I took a sip of my coffee and thought a moment. It was almost public knowledge how many bed-mates Lang had, and I would have been expecting him to cook for them, if he enjoyed it so.

“Uh oh; it’s looks like you’re thinking,” he said after he had scraped his plate clean.

“It’s, umm, not my place to ask.”

“Well, at least that is a better answer than ‘it’s nothing’.” He rose and placed his dish in the sink and returned to the table. “Go ahead, little one. I can hear your brain churning from here. Ask me what you will; I have no secrets except governmental ones.”

I took another sip of my coffee then cleared my throat. “Umm, if you enjoy cooking so much…”

“Ah,” he interrupted. “If I love to cook so much, why don’t I cook for all the bed-mates that pass through my door? Something like that?”

I nodded, ashamed of my nosiness.

Lang just chuckled. “You do not offend me, little one. I am more than aware that everyone knows the age, hair colour and height of each and every of my bed-mates. I’m not ashamed that I enjoy sex. However, I actually bring very few here to my private suite. I have a type of high-end bed-sit arrangement near my office. It has a luxurious bed, a shower, a toaster and a coffeemaker is all. I generally do not enjoy my casual bed-mates around me past dawn, and if they do not wish to leave, I can always excuse myself on the reasons of governmental business and barricade myself in my office until they go.”

My brain moved in high gear. I looked out the windows and it was well past dawn. Not only that, Lang had asked me to stay the whole weekend. I know the blood drained from my face; I could not understand why Lang would ask me to stay when he didn’t even bring others here, never mind cook for them.

“Why ask you here then, hmm? Oh, little one. Because it felt right to do so. Because you felt right. Because you deserved more than a fuck and a boot out the door before the sun broke the horizon. Because you captured my interest with your wild fantasy and your simple innocence. I wanted you here. I desired you here.”

I took a deep breath in, knowing it was time to ask. “Do you still desire me to stay? Last night was, umm…”

“Mmm. Yes. About last night…”

I steeled myself, expecting the worst.

“Your reaction was unexpected, and it saddened me greatly. However, I am glad I was with you, and that you allowed yourself to be open with me.”

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“That is not a face I was expecting. What troubles you?”

“I acted a lunatic last night.”

“No,” he replied softly. “You’re no lunatic. Wounded and scarred, perhaps. Inexperienced with people, absolutely. But not crazy. Just…lonely. And alone. And I hope that I can help you feel less lonely and alone, hmm?”

I was stunned. “But, does that mean…”

He took a sip of his coffee and smiled. “It means I wish you to stay, if you continue to desire so. It would take much more than an outpouring of honest emotion to have me wish you to go. Would you stay? Please?”

I was quite sure my mouth gaped as I nodded.

“Excellent. Now, I know I had said I wished to stay within the suite, but I was wondering if I could take you on a tour of my gardens? They’re lovely this time of year.”

Stress I was unaware I was holding leached from my body, and I relaxed back in my chair. Vague worries about how the rest of the weekend would go and what Lang expected of me had swirled beyond my consciousness since I awoke, and those worries simply disappeared into the ethers with Lang’s desire to walk the gardens.

“That sounds wonderful, Lang. But first, may I run to my chambers to get some fresh clothing? Mine are rather disreputable right now.”

“I don’t mind disreputable,” he said with a smirk. “But seriously, I can get a guard to go and retrieve whatever you need.”

Anxiety started swirling low in my stomach. As much as I acknowledged palace memos and my mail got dropped off in my chambers, I felt very uncomfortable having someone go through my things.

“No, it’s fine. I’d…umm…rather go myself. If that’s okay?”

“Certainly! Now, would I be improper if I asked to accompany you? I do not want to push myself into your private space if you do not wish it, but I would like to see where you live.”

I thought a moment. My chambers were nowhere near as luxurious as the Prince’s suite, but I had nothing I would be ashamed that Lang would see.

“Only if you wish it, but of course you are more than welcome in my home.”

“Excellent! We’ll go after you eat, if that is acceptable?”I smiled, swallowed down my coffee, and said, “Then I won’t be long. I’m starved, and would like to have my eggs now.”

~~~~~

Lang went off for a quick shower while I finished up my breakfast and put the leftovers in the fridge. When he returned, he looked cool and collected in casual navy pants and white, light tunic. I looked at my own rumpled clothing and Lang simply smiled, winked, and opened the door.

When we arrived at the Servants’ Quarters, the hallways seemed busier than usual. Even on the weekends there were but a few people milling about, and weekdays the halls were deserted. Everyone bowed to Lang as we passed, and I heard more than a few whispered conversations start soon after that. We arrived at my chambers, and I allowed Lang in, asking if he wished his guards to enter as well. The guards told me they preferred to remain outside so I closed the door as they set up their positions in the hallway.

I tried to see how my home would look to Lang’s eyes, but it was so familiar, I had no idea what he might think.

“Err, umm, may I show you my home?” I asked. I had no idea what people did when visitors entered their home, but I did remember Lang showing me his suite when I first entered and thought it might be a good idea to reciprocate.

Lang was standing in front of my bookcase in the living room, his mouth tight and thin. I was unsure what had caused him to look so grim, so I said, “Lang? What are you, umm, angry about?” The look on his face reminded me of the day prior, when he had raged at me.

“Please,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, “please, Morgan, tell me you have not continued to deceive me.”

“I have not, about anything, Sire.”

“Then explain to me, clearly and quickly, why you have a bookcase full of medical texts, encyclopedias, and books when you cannot read?” His eyes glittered with barely restrained anger.

Oh, Gods. I’d never thought about that, or why he might think it strange. “Sire, please, I beg you listen. It is true, I cannot read well, but I can read a few words, as you heard on Friday. The medical texts are books about the care of small animals.”

“Why do you have such things?”

“The servants’ children who live here often bring me injured or sick wild birds, homeless puppies and kittens to heal. There is no money in the palace budget to help these animals, so I do my best. I can understand pictures, and if I need some herb or poultice to heal a wound, I have the books marked and a librarian at the University helps me.”

“Explain.”

I pointed to the sides of the books. “I have labeled them in such a way that I may understand what is in each book, although I know the long blue one with silvery writing is on the care of birds. Each book has a corresponding number with it. I have no trouble with numbers, and so I call the librarian with the number of the book I need help getting information from. She retrieves the book, I tell her the problem, and she helps diagnose and treat. I make notes I can understand, and go to the herbalist to buy what I need. Although I do have a decent collection of herbs and enough experience, and can treat most things without referring to the books.”

I went to the kitchen and showed him my medicine cabinet and he peered in. “The labels?”

“Err, that is my own writing. When I go to the herbalist, I write on the bag in my own writing what it is, and transfer the herb and the information to the appropriate bottle when I arrive home.”

His lips relaxed some. “You do this on your own? What about the vet at the stables?”

I shrugged. “As I said, there is no money in the budget to treat these animals.”

“Now, the other books.”

“The large books of places and art I keep for the pictures. I wish I could travel or see art, but have no idea how to go about such things. I cannot read street signs or pamphlets, and have no idea who to contact to help me with such things. I cannot read the telephone book. And the encyclopedias, umm, well…”

“What, Morgan?”

“I dream of the day that I am able to read everything in those books. From time to time I try, hoping that perhaps during the night I have been healed of my inability to read, but I never am. I know there is knowledge, vast amounts of knowledge, that I could have access to, but is forever lost to me.”

His face finally softened, and he drew me into a gentle hug. “Oh, Morgan, Morgan. I regret misjudging you yet again. Forgive me?”

I kissed him carefully. “Of course, Lang. You barely know me, so why would you not think my owning books strange when I cannot read them?”

“You. You are too good.”

The words he spoke echoed the words Guard Mansfield had spoken to me earlier in the week.

“Why do you say that? I am only a floor-scrubber.”

He kissed me fast and hard. “No. You are first a man of intelligence, determination and unrecognized depth. That you clean floors for a living is incidental. Now, would you please show me the rest of your lovely home? The colours are fabulous! It is like walking through the trees in the fall.”

I looked around. I had pinned large pieces of rich coloured cloth over the bland beige walls, and had placed warm, inviting, and complexly patterned rugs on the floors. Each piece of upholstered furniture was a different fabric but coordinated with the others, and throw pillows lay haphazardly on the sofa. The colours were the colours of the forest in autumn: reds, dark greens and golds. A deep, rich brown tied the colours together and was also represented in the dark woods some of my furnishings.

“I’m happy you like it. May I show you the rest?”

“Indeed, though I have a question. What is that large storage cabinet?”

“Oh, please let me show you.” I pulled a wooden box from its place and showed him the contents: they were yarns of light blue.

“I don’t understand,” Lang said, perplexed. “Wool? Why do you store wool?”

“In quiet evenings, when I assume others read, I spin, or knit or crochet.”

“Spin what? And knitting? Isn’t that what old grandmothers do?”

I laughed softly. “Perhaps. My own grandmother taught me these hobbies when I visited her in the summers at my grandparents’ farm. I worked from crochet to knitting. She then showed me how to make my own yarn by spinning it. She showed me once how to prepare raw wool, but she died before I was able to try it on my own. Now, I buy cleaned fleeces from the market downtown. I actually knitted the sweater I am wearing right now.”

“But, it’s so fine! And fashionable!” He rubbed the hem between his fingertips.

“I do have some pride, Long Stone. I may not have friends, but I certainly don’t want to appear wretched. Anything else you wish to know?”

“Nothing comes to mind, although I’m sure I will have questions later. May we continue?”

I led him on, showing him my tiny but bright kitchen, my aging but sparkling clean bathroom, and my soft and serene bedroom. His pillows contrasted somewhat with the blues and greys of my bed linens, but to my eyes, they seemed perfectly matched.

Lang approached me from behind and wrapped his arms around me, his chin on my shoulder. “You have a lovely home. Very warm, inviting and cozy. You have a spectacular eye for colour.”

I shrugged. “I took many of the colour combinations from my books of art. They are not original.”

“Still, your home is a reflection of you: complex, interesting, and unexpected.”

I turned in his arms and gave him a quick kiss. “Now, if you wish to have a seat, I’ll be but a few minutes. The rocking chair is the most comfortable.”

He returned my kiss, and went to wait in the living room. I changed into clean clothes, then I tossed a few pieces of clothing into a bag I emptied of a partially knitted project, grabbed my toothbrush and my hair brush from the bathroom, and returned to the living room.

I saw Lang, sitting in my rocking chair, flipping through a book I’d left next to it. He must have heard my approach, because he lifted his eyes to mine and smiled in question. My world stopped.

That was the moment. That was the moment I knew that I had fallen in love with Langston. That was the moment I realized I loved every part of him: his patience with me, his sensuality, his intelligence, his teasing, even his ability to doubt something until shown proof, such as he had shown with my lack of ability to read. That was the moment that my world slid sideways and I knew it would never be the same again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite line in this chapter:
> 
> Wounded and scarred, perhaps. Inexperienced with people, absolutely. But not crazy. Just…lonely.
> 
> If only we could all be seen as we truly are and accepted as such.


	8. Love, Trust and Other Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A corner is turned.

Love.

Love is not the feeling I felt for my parents. My father was a drunken gambler with a short fuse and a big fist. My mother was a drug addicted prostitute, sly and sneaky in her attitude to the world, never trusting anyone and least of all me. My father died when I was nine; stabbed to death in a back alley by a bookie who'd waited too long to be paid for debts owed. My mother died of a drug overdose when I was 18, a month before I graduated high school. No, love was not the feeling I felt for my parents, but I still feel I am a bad child by not feeling grief at their deaths.

I loved my grandparents. They were good to me and I have warm feelings as I remember them. I enjoyed the few days in the summertime when they would come to city, pick me up from my mother's and we would travel back to their farm in the countryside. My time with them was always too short. They were free with their affections; hugging me constantly, smoothing my dog licks down, telling me frequently they loved me and how they wished they could convince my mother to live with them. I wished that I could have lived with them too. They died in a barn fire when I was 12.

I remember my first crush. He was a year ahead of me, though we were of the same age. Hair of gold and eyes of sky blue, his name was Shina. Gods, I still remember the fluttery, joyous feeling in my stomach as he passed me in the halls at school. I spent many a night with my hand down my briefs, imagining his pale, strong body next to mine and him telling me he'd take me away from my life and that he didn't care whether I could read a word or not. I don't even think he knew I existed; I certainly never spoke a voluntary word to him.

All of those feelings paled to the sensation when I looked upon Lang, sitting so at ease in the chair my grandfather rocked in many a night. I was engulfed in comfort and joy and hot desire and safety and the wish to never leave his side; I'd never felt such feelings prior in my life. I was so awestruck that my bag slipped from my fingers unnoticed, and the rushing of the blood racing through my heart blocked out all sound. I saw Lang frown in concern and his mouth was moving, but I just couldn't hear what he was saying.

He rushed over to me; as soon as his hands touched my arms, my ears cleared and I heard him, his voice raised, say, "Morgan? What ails you? Morgan? Morgan? Speak to me! Morgan? Morgan? Morgan?"

My tongue finally loosened and I squeaked out, "Prince?"

"Yes, little one! Please, say what is wrong! You look as if your heart stopped! Please, speak to me!"

"Sire? I've fallen in love with you."

The shock on his face would have been comical for its obviousness in any other situation. Slowly, tentatively, the shock transformed to brilliant joy and he drew me quickly into his arms.

Then the reality of the situation struck me hard in the chest; oh, Gods, what had I done? I knew nothing of love and how one was to speak or act with the one of their desire.

When Lang pulled away, he said, "Little one, you do not appear happy."

"I do not know what to do. Should I have said such a thing to you after only knowing you a few days? Is this normal? What if what I’m feeling is not love? I have no desire to deceive you, ever!”

“Hush, little one, hush.” Lang pulled me back into his arms, tucking my head to the crook of his neck, and he just petted my head. “If you can, take breaths like last night: in through the nose and out through the mouth. I will do them with you.”

We breathed together for a few moments, then he led me to the sofa and sat me down with him next to me.

“Now, nothing is wrong, okay? Everything is fine and good.”

I nodded.

“Now, should you said what you did after knowing me for but a few days? Some would say no, but I would say that speaking of your love in your heart can in no way be wrong. Is this normal? Well, I’ve never had a declaration of love spoken to me in such a manner, but I’ve also never heard one spoken more truthfully in my whole life. Is what you feel love? I cannot say, but I know that you have no intent to deceive and I will truly never doubt you again. Now, are you calm?”

“My heart still beats like a rabbit’s, but I feel like I have my wits.”

“Good. Now, I have my own declaration to make. This was not the way I expected it to happen, but it is the right time. See, Morgan, I’ve fallen in love with you too.” He tucked a wayward curl of hair behind my ear.

I blinked. A few times. “Lang?” I whispered out softly, barely comprehending. “But how?”

“Servant Bonus Day. When you looked me in the eye after you’d asked for your pillow. I knew, I just knew, I was standing in front of the man that would complete me. A thunderbolt cleaved me open and filled my soul with the purest, most honest, richest, and sweetest love I’ve ever felt. Your eyes of brown, so warm, so deep, became the only eyes I wished to look into, ever again. I knew from your glances at me in the Meeting Hall that you desired to be bed-mates with me.”

I blushed that I was so obvious.

“Oh, little one. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. Being attracted to someone is no crime. But as I was saying, I knew you wanted to have me as a bed-mate. I immediately desired more, but did not want to press. I, umm, asked you to pick up your pillow from my office under false pretences, I’m afraid. I figured I might be able to at least start with you as a bed-mate and hope that things might progress to more. I must admit, when we spoke in my office, you shocked me as few had ever shocked me before.”

“I was that pathetic?” I asked.

“Gods, no. Finding out this lovely, gorgeous creature who desired me was an innocent, was something I could never have guessed. Then, discovering your desires and your fantasies; it was as if every prayer I had ever whispered in the dead of night had been granted at once.”

“But last night, I’m sure you thought your prayers had been falsely answered.”

“Last night was a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Indeed, little one. Before then, had you spoken to anyone about such things?”

“No; as I said prior, no one speaks to me.”

“Then for…how old are you now, Morgan?”

“Twenty nine.”

“Then for 29 years, all those sorrows, all that grief, all that loneliness have had no release and have simply festered wounds on your soul. But instead of turning those emotions to madness or rage, you’ve used your energies both creatively and to help those who cannot help themselves. It does not surprise me now your reactions of last night, and I would be unsurprised if you had similar sensations or outbursts in the future. The festering needs released, Morgan. And you can release it now; you are no longer alone in the world, and I want to share your burdens.”

“That sounds like an unfair deal for you, though. You deserve someone like yourself: strong, beautiful and confident.”

“You, love, are strong. You survive the ultimate undeserved punishment one can be bestowed—the one of loneliness—everyday without complaint. You are beautiful; Gods, I wish I had the words to capture your beauty fully. And confidence? Indeed, you are shy and uncertain, but those do not detract. I have no doubt self-confidence will come, but even if you remain exactly as you are for the remainder of your days, I would still be the happiest man in the world.”

I looked into the depth of his green eyes and saw truth, honesty, and love thrown to me as a lifeline cast directly from his own heart.

“You speak the truth,” I stated plainly.

He nodded to me.

“Do you have any doubt?”

He carefully shook his head.

Almost without choice, my own heart opened and desperately grabbed onto the lifeline Lang offered.

"You would...help me?"

A smile and a nod.

My heart twined Lang’s lifeline into its very fibres. In doing so, a preternatural calm settled into my bones. I desired deeply to kiss him, so I leaned forward and gently touched his lips with mine. He moved his own lips carefully, and when the kiss finished, I looked back into Lang's green eyes. I'd never seen such an expression of intensity on anyone's face before; it was like an Autumn Solstice bonfire brought to life. It was heat and desire and love and other things I just couldn't place and I knew I'd gladly burn to ash in the flames of Lang's emotions.

I suddenly wanted to finish what my outburst from the previous night had interrupted. The lifeline felt secure and strong and I drew surety from it. "Lang," I said my voice low, "I want to ask you something."

"Anything, my love."

"May I suck your cock? Here and now?”

The intensity in Lang’s face was softened by confusion. “What? Why do you ask this? I told you: there are no scorecards between lovers.”

I carefully rested my palm against his cheek, and his head tilted into it, his eyes drifted closed and he sighed. “I understand that,” I replied. “It’s just…I want. That. I want that and I am asking.”

“Nothing else?” he whispered, rubbing his cheek against my palm.

“No. I just…want you.”

His eyes floated open and he smiled easily. “Then, yes, little one. Anything you want and more.”

My hand drifted off his cheek, travelled up through his thick locks, then back down his shoulder to his hand. I grabbed his hand, and helped him up off the sofa as I stood. I led him to my bedroom, and had him stand next to my bed. I untied the ribbons from the pillows, and set them at the head so that his body would be cradled by them.

Turning back to Lang, I gently slid his tunic up and off him, untied his pants and let gravity pull them to the floor. Taking both his hands, I led him forward so he would step out of his pants. Already, his cock was noticeably hard in his underwear, and I noted a small damp dot where his tip lay.

“Okay, Lang?”

He smiled and his eyes were soft. “Mmm. Indeed, Morgan, my Morgan.”

Anxiety began to curl in my abdomen, but I focused instead on the lifeline in my heart. I dragged my fingertips over his hips, and carefully tucked them under the band of his briefs. For a few moments, I let my hands explore his hips blindly, then very carefully spread my fingers and pulled his briefs down his legs, ensuring his cock didn’t get tugged on. I lifted his one foot up and removed the sock, then did the same with the other.

I gently pushed forward, and encouraged him to step back until his calves hit my bed. Pushing his chest with my hands, I had him sit then recline back.

“Lang, would you shuffle up and make yourself comfortable and at ease?”

He looked as if in a dream, and he nodded lightly and wriggled up the bed. I stripped off my clothing as efficiently as I could; I left my own briefs on as I felt more comfortable that way.

Now, I was in the same situation that Lang had been with me the night of my wish: the object of my desires was lying in front of me. The down pillows were supporting his head and his shoulders, his arms lay spread out from his body. His legs were wide and his knees bent. I had an absolutely perfect view of Lang’s spectacular intimate parts.

My mouth filled with saliva as arousal rushed through me. I did my best to ignore it as Lang most certainly deserved to have my full attention.

“Any requests?” I asked softly.

His mouth lifted in a gentle smirk. “Only a couple of suggestions: be careful with your teeth, and do not feel you have to swallow my come. I will warn you just prior to my orgasm if you wish to pull off.”

“Noted,” I replied.

I rested my palms on the bottom of his feet, letting the warmth of my hands warm the chill from them.

“Cold?” I asked.

He just shook his head no.

I trailed my hands up his shins and when I could no longer reach, I crawled up onto the bed, kneeling between his legs.

I hadn’t thought much about legs as part of sex; they just were the part of the body below the prime area of focus. Now, I could see that perhaps I had been missing something with that view. As I stroked over his shins, knees and thighs, certain spots made Lang twitch and moan with desire: just near the ankles, the sides of the knees and most certainly the inside of his thighs. I looked closer and saw fine scars criss-crossing his legs; I traced one that meandered from below his left knee down his shin.

“Fell into brambles when I was eight. Tried to be brave and not tell anyone, but bits of thorns were embedded in many places and the wounds got infected.”

“I’m sorry you suffered,” I replied honestly. I kissed the scar I had been tracing then straightened, gazing up the length of his body.

I avoided my end goal for the moment, and explored Lang’s hips first with my fingertips then stroking them with my thumbs as I gripped them. That caused Lang to arch up slightly and a moan to slide from his chest.

“Is this arousing, Long Stone?” I pressed firmly into the dips in the front of his hips.

Another reflexive arching. “Gods, yes, Morgan! It makes me think…”

I pressed again. “What, Long Stone? What does that make you think?”

Another moan, and his head whipped to one side. “As if we were making love, having you pull on me there so you might drive your cock deeper within me. I’m strangely sensitive on my hips…”

I swallowed, and for a long moment was distracted by the image Lang had created. I had to physically shake my head to clear the lust from my brain so I could focus. One last teasing press to his hips, a gentle swipe of my hands across his abdomen, and I rested my hands partially in the pubic hair of his crotch. It was crunchy and crinkly, unlike my own which was soft and fine, and the texture intrigued me as I threaded my fingers through it. Once I realized I was distracted again, I removed my hands from his hair, rested one hand on a hip and used the other to carefully touch his sac.

Stroking his sac caused tiny little moans to come from Lang, and I wondered how it would be were I to kiss him there, so I leaned over, cupping his balls in my hand, and kissed them both lightly.

Though he sounded garbled, Lang managed to mumble out, “Little one, I like them sucked on.”

I looked up his body and caught his lust-filled eyes and smiled. Gods, I wanted to please the man in front of me, so I drew one ball carefully into my mouth, being very aware to keep my teeth away. Using my tongue, I rolled it around my mouth until I heard a soft string of moans; I let that one pop out of my mouth and repeated the same actions to the other.

Lang’s moans became peppered with “yes”s and “please”s and “fuck”s and “Gods”s so I thought it appropriate to continue onward and upward.

Having acquainted myself somewhat with Lang’s cock a few nights ago, I did not feel as anxious as I could have been. Wrapping the base with my hand, I pulled it towards me so it stood straight up from his body. Knowing not what else to do, I enveloped his cock with my mouth.

“Gods, yes, finally,” Lang sighed. “Just…hmm…slide your mouth up and down me, using your hand around the base.”

Ah; well, that made some kind of sense. I did as he instructed and bobbed my head up and down his cock as his hips rocked. Gods, how he filled my mouth, and he was sweet and delicious and heavenly. Pleasantly hard, silky smooth, this was most certainly an experience I wished to attempt again as often as possible.

“Just like that, Morgan, yes. Such a good job,” Lang said after I’d mouthed him for some time, and I felt him pet the side of my head. A strand of doubt wound through my guts; I worried that perhaps Lang was lying to save my feelings. Though difficult, I angled my head to look upon Lang’s face to see if perhaps I could detect some deception.

I caught his eyes with mine. He’d had a bit of a smile when I first looked up, but it fell from his face and hot, rich desire replaced it.

“God, Morgan, I’d imagined…but you…your lips, your eyes…Gods!” He broke eye contact and his head tilted back. “Gods, Morgan! Just that one look,” he forced his eyes open to look back at me and I tried to smile as I bobbed. “Gods! Morgan, pull off, I’m so close, it came out of nowhere, but your eyes, Morgan, your eyes!”

He patted my head and now it was my turn to break our gaze. I wanted to try to accept his release, so I simply turned all my focus on his pleasure.

His hips bucked up into my face and Lang let out a huge shout that sounded like my name as I felt the first pulses of his orgasm. Not knowing what else to do, I kept my head moving over him, but his come filled my mouth and I tried to swallow. A mistimed breath caused one spurt to go down my lungs and, startled, I had to pull off before I choked. Trying to keep all my movements coordinated was a losing battle. Lang’s come poured from my mouth back onto him, but his hips were still pumping so I used my hand as best as I could to allow him complete release. I coughed and coughed and coughed over the side of the bed, my hand still gripping his cock until I felt him pull back from me.

“Love! Are you okay? Morgan!” Lang pounded my back until my coughing subsided.

Gods, I was ashamed. I’d done so poorly, I couldn’t lift my eyes to Lang.

“Morgan, say something so I know you can breathe!”

“I’m sorry that was so horrible for you,” I managed to sputter out, bringing my hands to my face to cover my shame as my coughs subsided.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Little one, that was in no way horrible. It was wonderful. The ending could perhaps use some work; we’ll just have to keep trying, if you’re amenable?”

“You want me to do that again?” I let my hands drift down and my eyes lift to his.

He smirked. “The only way to improve is to keep trying. Besides, if in the end you cannot swallow, the world will not cease to turn. You, me and the sheets are all things that can be cleaned, hmm?”

“Is it…I mean, do you think…that I…”

His smirk transformed to a smile. “Yes, I want that again, if it something that appeals. Yes, I think you can learn to finish me off without choking; whether that be you swallow or you pull off and finish me with your hand, either is fine to me. And yes, we will talk more on this. Hmm?”

He drew me into a quick hug and released me. “Now, do you have a cloth I might use?”

“You rest and I will get the cloth,” I said as I gently pushed him back in the bed.

I dampened a washcloth and cleaned him up, curling to his side when I was done.

“Morgan? Would you like me to do the same to you? I’d truly love to do so.”

I thought a moment. I was comfortable, but the first stirrings of restlessness were itching my bones. “Err, not right now? Later?”

He rubbed his cheek on my head. “Why not now, little one?”

“Because I want to see your gardens.”

“You do? Or is this some code like saying you desire seeing my etchings?”

“Lang, what? It’s no code, unless you showing me your gardens is code for something I am unaware of.”

“No, I do want you to see my gardens. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I do not understand why you do not want me to suck you.”

“It’s just, umm, I am unused to being in bed so long.”

“Ah, I am boring you.”

“Gods, of course not!” I was horrified that he would assume such of me.

“I tease, little one, I tease. You wish to get up and move around some?”

“If you desire it, Long Stone.”

He wrapped his arms around me and flipped us around so he was on top of me and he gave me a quick kiss. “I desire being with you, in bed or not. So you truly wish to see my gardens?”

I nodded.

Another quick kiss, then he said, “You, my love, your wish is my command,” and he bounced from the bed. “Come on, then, little one. Get your restless ass out of bed and let’s go!”

I had to smile as I followed his command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite line from this chapter:
> 
> You, me and the sheets are all things that can be cleaned, hmm?
> 
> Things to remember, am I right?


	9. A Walk in the Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fresh air will do the boys some good.

As part of the publicly accessible West Lawn was an area called The Rancroft Heritage Gardens. It had examples of flora from all over the kingdom, so was an excellent place to learn about flowers, bushes and trees. Not only that, it had been specifically designed to appeal to children of all ages, so it was always a busy place.

What the grand majority of people did not know was that The Rancroft Heritage Gardens was actually part of The Children’s Heritage Gardens, the official name of the Prince’s garden. It had long been a constitutional requirement for the direct descendants of the present king or queen to keep samples of flora from around the kingdom, and they were bound to ensure the gardens were maintained, kept up to date, and viable as a living history of the kingdom.

Of course, I’d never expected in my life to visit the actual Children’s Gardens, and so satisfied myself with a tour of the Rancroft Gardens the first summer I worked at the palace. They were lovely, but with the crush of the public, the noise of the children and my inability to read the information plaques in front of various plants, it was a less than enjoyable afternoon.

Had I not already had the best time of my life spending a night in Lang’s bed, I would have said that the time I spent in the Prince’s garden, having Lang as a personal tour guide, would have been the best moment of my life. We started by walking through his formal gardens which were closest to the palace. He would point out interesting specimens and tell me about where they grew, what kind of soil they required, and even how much sun they needed. I am more than sure that I surprised him often by telling him how I could use many of the plants as medicine for birds or animals.

We then toured his greenhouses where frail, delicate or very rare specimens grew. There were tiny saplings, storage areas for bulbs or rhizomes that could not spend the winter in soil, and even tiny bits of mosses and vines that only grew on the side of one mountain in the north.

Continuing on, we meandered into “a prime example of Southern forest land”, or so Lang told me his head gardener told him. Very similar to the area near the pavilion, the trees were widely spaced, the ground between them moss covered, so it was easy to walk without focus.

“May I ask you a few things, Morgan?” Lang said quietly.

“Whatever you wish, you may ask,” I replied.

“Would you tell me some about your family? You’d mentioned a grandmother?”

I hummed. “Grandmother and Grandfather, my mother’s parents, had a small farm near Farbridge. Are you aware of the place?”

Lang just crooked an eyebrow.

“Ah, yes. Well, you probably know the geography of the kingdom better than most. Sorry, It’s just few people know where that is.”

“It’s fine, love. Go on.”

“I stayed summers at their farm. I was fairly useless at farm chores, although my grandparents never scolded me about such. I had always been fascinated by Grandmother’s abilities with a hook, needles, or a spinning wheel, and she taught me young how to create yarn and fabrics. Grandfather was a quiet man, and read much in the evenings, smoking his fragrant pipe. The rocking chair in my chambers and my other wood furnishings were all handmade by my grandfather; he’d been a production furniture maker prior to his retirement. My grandparents died when I was almost in my teens.”

“How did they pass?”

“Barn fire. Apparently, Grandfather went in to save the animals and didn’t come out, so Grandmother went in after him. She didn’t come out either.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

I shrugged. “It was long ago.”

“What about your parents?”

I sighed under my breath and gathered my thoughts. “My mother was a whore.”

Lang stopped and looked at me. “You…you…would call your own mother such a thing?”

I reached out and grabbed Lang’s hand, and pulled him back into motion. “Yes, I would, because it is the truth. She was a prostitute with an addiction to drugs and a total inability to trust anyone. Even me. Especially me.”

“Oh,” Lang finally replied after we had walked a bit. “Umm, your father?”

“Professional gambler with a taste for drink and the ability to pick the slowest horse, get the worst card hands and roll the dice most poorly. He…err…wasn’t exactly my father; stepfather, I guess. I am unsure who my father is.”

“Are they living?”

“Neither live, and I know of no other family.”

We walked hand in hand for some time, and I could most obviously read Lang’s face; he was thinking hard on my family tree.

“There is something I don’t understand. If your mother was a…woman of the evening, then how do you know so little about sex? I mean, did she work from your home, or what?”

“She rented a nightly room in a local brothel. And my lack of knowledge was a gift that came from her inability to trust. She wanted to make sure I…I…didn’t…um…steal clients, that she never spoke of her work in front of me. I found out what my mother did for a living from some older teens at high school my very first day. Apparently, she, umm, was well known by some of them and their fathers.”

“Gods above!”

"Indeed, though I long doubted the gods ever heard my calls. I had hoped high school would have been a new opportunity to make friends of those who did not already know me, but it was not to be. See, I was from a poor family going to a high school populated by children of the wealthy, my mother was a prostitute, and I couldn't read. Three knocks and I was out of favour even before I finished my first day of high school.

“Life at home was no better than school. My mother being who she was, I was left to fend for myself much of the time, even well before I went to high school. I did some...less than honourable things to ensure my continued survival."

"Oh?" Lang stated, but no more.

We walked along some, hand in hand, as I thought how much I should tell Lang.

"You know, you never have to tell me anything about your past, if you do not wish to do so," Lang finally said quietly.

"I am just unsure of what is appropriate to tell."

"Truthfully, any and all is appropriate. Whatever you wish to speak of, I am more than willing to listen to. And in all honesty, nothing you tell me will go beyond my lips.”

I thought some long minutes, lost in memories of my past. Finally, I decided on a thing to speak of; a thing that had weighted my soul. "After my father died, I had practically no adult supervision. My mother was hardly ever home, and when she was, she was generally passed out or so high she spun like a top. Drugs were definitely more important than food, so something like a home cooked meal just...didn't exist at my home. I took to...umm...taking money from her purse to at least buy bread, eggs and milk." I looked over to Lang who was watching the way in front of us. He must have felt my gaze, because he lifted his eyes to mine and smiled.

"Do you worry I think you a thief?"

I nodded slightly.

"Morgan, my love. That is not thievery. You mother was neglectful, and you were a child with no way to acquire necessities on your own."

"True, but in the end, I took something that was not my own from my family. My mother would have said that was worse than stealing from a stranger."

"Your mother had...a different view on the world than most."

I frowned. "But family is family. I mean, when I searched rubbish bins for our supper, she would beat me if I ate before bringing the food home for her to divide as she thought most appropriate."

Lang’s hand on mine grew tighter and tighter.

“Sire,” I whispered, “Sire, I’m sorry I’ve offended you, but my hand…”

In an instant, Lang released my hand, then retook it more gently. “You have in no way offended me, little one, and I’m sorry I got caught up in my own feelings and hurt your hand. I hadn’t realized I was letting my anger out.”

“Anger?” I said low.

“Hmm. Indeed.”

“I had no desire to anger you.”

“Oh, little one.” He stopped, turned to me, pulled me close, and gave me a gentle kiss. “I am in no way angry at you. I’m angry at your mother. That you speak to me so easily of being beaten, collecting your supper from garbage, and not least that she would think you would steal her clients tells me much about her.”

An uncomfortable feeling started to rise within me, so I said, “May we stop discussing my mother? She died more than ten years ago; I have not thought of her for a long, long time and have little desire to think more on her now.”

“Of course, my love. Perhaps you can speak to me about your wool? I know nothing of such things, and am curious to how you spend your free time.” Lang gave me a quick kiss, then guided us on through the trees.

~~~~~

We traveled a meandering path through the trees as I spoke about my hobbies. I’d never spoken to anyone about my fiber craft, and was somewhat stunned at Lang’s lack of knowledge on the subject. Much of what I talked about was so basic to me that I now longer thought much about the hows and whys; I simply decided on what I wanted to create, picked up the appropriate tools and went.

I was describing a yarn that I was spinning, one of a mix of wools and other fibres to get what result I desired, when Lang laughed at me and said, “Master Wool Artist; I beg you give my poor, cramped brain a moment of rest.”

“Oh. Sorry. I just…”

He sighed. “Again, little one, there is no reason to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and hurt no one; there is no need to say ‘sorry’. Hopefully, we’ll have much time together for you to explain to my uncomprehending brain how you do what you do. It is fascinating, and I would like to speak more on this in the future, hmm?”

“If you desire it.”

“Yes, I do. Now, do you wish to know anything of me?”

Oh. What did I wish to know of the man next to me? I knew that his father, King Almace, was a good and just king; his mother, Queen Isadore, had died sometime in his teens; and he had a brother, Prince Bryce and a sister, Princess Clara. He lived in the Palace, he worked in the government, and he had sex a lot. What does one ask for when they are unsure what else is available for their perusal?

“You are awfully quiet. Are you afraid of asking me something?”

“I just…am unknowing what an appropriate question would be. I am somewhat aware of your family already. I know what you do for a living. And your free time seems somewhat filled with…”

“Filled with what, little one?” I had no need to see his face to hear the smirk on it.

“Err, umm, bed-mates.”

A low, soft chuckle floated from him. “I would not say my free time is ‘filled’ with bed-mates. Even I cannot have sex every free moment. My penis would be rubbed to a nub and I’d have no brain for lack of blood flow. It sounds like perhaps there is much discussion about me by the servants.”

“Quite. There are often pools and individual bets floating around about who your next conquest will be, how long your present bed-mate will last, when you will break your record for the most bed-mates in a week, all sorts of things.”

Loud and long laughter erupted from him. When he settled some, he said, “Well, at least someone is making money and having fun with my horizontal activities. You do realize you’ll now be part of that?”

I stopped, my eyes wide. I hadn’t thought of such a thing. “I…I…uh, no. You think people will actually gossip about me?”

“Indeed.” Lang encouraged me to walk again. “Why do you think so many people were in the halls today? And surely, you must have heard the murmurings.”

I nodded. “I did, but I did not think I would be important enough to talk about.”

He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Well, I do believe it was the first time I’ve gone to the Servant’s Quarters to visit a bed-mate’s chambers. Some lucky soul will certainly make some money this weekend.”

I blushed red, suddenly realizing that Lang had not been exactly quiet in my bed, and how easily I’d heard my neighbours’ business in the past.

“Do you think people…are going to…um…be aware of what I did to you?”

“Possibly. Probably.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t actually matter, you know, and I am quite sure that even those who heard nothing will assume that we were not discussing world politics over a cup of tea. We are both of age, unattached, and did nothing illegal.”

Illegal; Gods! “But this would be proof of you fraternizing with a commoner!” I had risked the Prince’s livelihood!

“Easy, little one, easy. Neither you nor I are at risk. When Mansfield showed me that letter, the first thing my brain jumped to was that you both had found the obscure law preventing royals and commoners from joining. The law is still there, but if you have no legal knowledge you would not have known that newer laws limit greatly the original law to the point that it is useless. I assumed you both were fools for thinking you could try to blackmail me; I could never have guessed what the truth was.

“Anyway, all is fine, so enough about that. Do you not think I do other things? Have other interests than the piece of flesh between my legs?”

I shrugged, frustrated. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know what to ask.”

“Ah. I did not realize small talk might be difficult for you. Well, then, let me see. Are you aware that I am a falconer?”

“You’re a what? A falcon?”

“No, not a falcon. A falconer. I train falcons and use them for hunting. I also own a few horses; some I enjoy for their speed, others I appreciate for their endurance. When I can, I enjoy camping; living off the land is a wonderful challenge compared to the life of luxury I normally lead. I enjoy reading about scientific discoveries and have subscriptions to many research journals; I am especially interested in astronomy and the discovery of stars, planets and other celestial objects. I aim to read at least one contemporary novel or non-fiction book a month; it keeps me at least somewhat connected to what interests the populace. I work out as sitting so much makes me sluggish, and if I don’t do some routine exercise, both my body and brain suffer for it. I like going out to bars and dancing with my friends, though I see that somewhat abating in the future. You already know I enjoy cooking. Questions?”

“How do you have time to breathe, let alone have sex?” I blurted out without thinking.

Lang chuckled. “One has lots of time, if one but looks for it. I hunt with my falcons and my horses on some weekends, and generally end up camping at the same time. I read during spare moments: at breakfast, on my lunch, between meetings, etc. For my exercise I have a schedule. The rest of the time I do as I please.”

Laid out so simply, it did seem as if Lang had all the time in the world.

"Right now, though, I am spending time with you, which dims my desires for other activities," he said low. He gently twirled me around so I was in his arms, and he gave me a simple, easy kiss. When he released, he gave me a smile that slowly slid from his face to be replaced by arousal and hunger. My stomach did a flip, and I let myself become lost in the heat of his eyes.

"Gods, Morgan. You are so beyond gorgeous..." He kissed me again, this time harder and more demanding. It was intoxicating, and I was soon lost in the heady sensations of his kiss. It wasn’t until I felt rough bark at my back that I’d realized he’d maneuvered me up against a tree.

He broke the kiss, and leaned his forehead against mine, his eyes burning a connection between us. “Please,” he begged, “please.”

Before I knew it, the words slipped from my mouth. “Anything. Anything you desire, Lang.” My eyes widened as I realized what I had said. “Oh, Gods! I mean, is this another test I failed yet again? Gods!” and he silenced my lips with a kiss.

“No, my love. No test. It’s just that since the first time I saw your lovely cock, I’ve wanted it down my throat and, since this morning, it’s been a craving in my brain. Please, I beg you, be kind and deny me no longer.”

Keeping my eyes focused on Lang’s, I shook my head no.

He frowned. “No? You do not wish me to do such? Do I push too much, or have I offended you?”

“No, silly. I mean, I will no longer deny you. Go ahead, Long Stone, if that is what you desire.”

The corners of his eyes lifted in a smile; he gave me a quick wink and a rough kiss and headed down my body.

After he had unfastened my pants and pulled both them and my boxers down my hips, he gently retrieved my cock from its fabric restraints. His simple words of wanting my cock in his mouth had warmed desire within me, and I was already hardening.

He knelt in front of me, and for some long moments looked at my member. He’d not said anything to this point positive nor negative about its shape, size or colour, but I still felt so very nervous at his intense inspection. Perhaps, now that he could see my cock’s details easily in the dappled light, it would not appeal?

I should not have worried, for with his next words, he warmed me to my very bones.

“You have a prince on his knees in front of you; there is truly no place he’d rather be. Dearest Morgan,” he said softly, He placed a tender kiss on the tip of my cock, then gazed up to me, love flowing from his eyes like waves from a heated sea. I’d never had anyone look at me in such a way before, like I was his whole world and he could never be pulled from me; my throat closed in wonder and awe and my heart grew large. His face warmed in a smile.

He flicked his eyes back to my groin, and he took a deep breath in, and let it out slow so that I felt it over my cock. Leaning forward some, he started by placing lazy, gentle kisses all along my tip, down the shaft and all over my sac, letting moisture from his mouth wet me. He spread kisses all over my hips, my thighs and my lower abdomen; at least what was open to the air and available to him. The softness of his lips lulled me into a warm, aroused, yet relaxed state; one in which I felt like I was being luxuriated upon. My eyes drifted closed, and my head leaned back into the tree trunk, a few random curls catching in the rough bark.

His hands cupped the top of my hips, his fingers splayed wide, and his thumbs rubbing whatever exposed skin they could find.

“Morgan,” I heard Lang say huskily. “Morgan, I want you to see. Please, look down at me.”

I did as he bade. We locked gazes; his mouth relaxed, he licked his lips, and carefully slid onto my tip. Involuntarily, I closed my eyes; my head listed back yet again and I groaned. To see my prince looking up at me with his stunning green eyes and his dark pink lips on me was almost more than I could bear.

“Morgan,” he repeated, “look down at me again, please.” I struggled to open my eyes and look back at him. He rewarded my efforts with a heated smile and said, “Now watch me.”

Lang slowly started licking my tip and I heard a moan vibrate around my cock, so similar to the moans I’d heard earlier in my chambers. Shaking with desire and just a touch of concern of hurting him, I lifted a hand to touch the hair of the gorgeous man kneeling in front of me. With the first fingering of his waves came another groan, and I guessed that perhaps Lang like to be touched while he mouthed cocks. I rubbed my fingers down to his scalp, and at that moment, he sucked on my tip like a babe on a teat. I gasped; never could I have imagined that such an act could heighten my arousal in such a way. With a careful pop, Lang released the suction from my tip and chuckled lightly.

“It sounds like you like being sucked as much as I like sucking. Let’s see about this…”

He again wrapped his lips around my tip, and careful glided down my shaft. To watch my cock disappearing into Lang’s mouth was hypnotizing and I was practically struck dumb with amazement. My hand drifted from his hair and, with a fingertip, I traced the line of connection of his lips and my cock. My brain struggled with the vision before me; was I actually in some sort of fabulous dream, one that was so realistic I could feel the different textures of Lang’s mouth and my shaft?

Suddenly, I felt suction surround my cock which snapped me to reality, leaving all thought of this being a dream behind. I groaned; my arousal swirling purposefully in my groin. The suction released as Lang drew his mouth up my shaft to the tip, then sucked me in again, this time more deeply. He repeated his actions, over and over, and my hips started to pump on their own accord. Then, I felt the careful vibrations of humming. My head knocked against the tree, my eyes squeezed shut, my knees softened and my back arched; my desire ratcheted up quite a number notches. I desperately dug my my nails into the bark behind me so I wouldn’t force Lang’s head on me and accidentally hurt him.

Lang released me, and chuckled. “Like that too? Good to know. You know, love, I don’t mind you touching my head…”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t want to force and hurt you, Lang,” I managed to get out.

Another chuckle. “You won’t.” He eased my hands from the bark and placed them on the back of his head. He cupped one of my hands with one of his, and his other he rested on the tree behind me. Gliding his mouth back down and up my cock, he pressed my hand with his, demonstrating the pressure I could use. The pressure wasn’t much, which made me more comfortable; I was simply guiding him as opposed to presenting him with no choice.

“Understand?” he asked softly.

I responded by pulling his head back to my cock. I heard a soft sigh, and his wet mouth enveloped me again. He bobbed and sucked, licked and kissed, random moans and groans huffing from both of us. I kept my hands loose on his head, occasionally petting or stroking his hair, but as my desire swelled I let it take control and guide him as I needed. It did not take many minutes of his talented tongue and mouth on my cock before I felt my release approach; I firmly patted Lang’s head in warning. When he didn’t stop or acknowledge me, I shouted, “Lang! I’m close! I’m…”

My hips bucked up into his throat, and though I didn’t want to, in my desire to release my hands forced Lang’s head back and forth to me in a staccato beat. Both of our moans rose in pitch, and the vibrations of his throat around my cock pitched me hard over the edge, my come spurting into his mouth as I held his head close.

I let my hands drift from his head as he suckled me clean, and once done, he carefully replaced my cock in my briefs and pulled up my pants over my hips. I drifted easily in a haze, the bark behind me hooking into my clothing and helping to keep me upright. I felt Lang rest his head on my abdomen, and before long, I heard moans from him. Peering down, I could tell by the movements of his body that he was using his hand on himself.

“Lang?” I mumbled, drawing my hand again through his hair. “May I help you with that?”

He flicked his eyes up to me, his pupils wide and dark. He shook his head no, but then turned his head to face my hand, and drew two of my fingers in his mouth, sucking on them as he had my cock not that long ago. I rested my other hand on the back of his head, and I pulled his head forward in counterpoint to me pushing my fingers in his mouth. His eyes rolled back and he moaned, his body rocking at a fair clip. As his hips sped up, he sucked harder and harder and when he came, he shouted my name out around my fingers.

He slumped into me, his arms wrapped around my thighs, and I stroked his hair as his breathing slowed and relaxed.

“Thank you, dear Morgan,” I heard Lang mumble into my abdomen.

My mind had cleared, and I was surprised at his comment. “Why do you thank me? I should thank you.”

“Mmm…perhaps, but it’s been a long time since anyone allowed me the freedom to do exactly as I pleased without comment or disapproval. Not only that, you supporting my head while I sucked your fingers; rather intuitive, dear one, and again, not many of my bed-mates have been so aware of my needs.”

I wondered what kind of idiots had been Lang’s bed-mates if one so inexperienced as me could see what he needed when others couldn’t.   I let those thoughts float to the back of my mind as Lang took a deep breath, stood up and straightened both his and my clothing so were again presentable to the world at large. He kissed me then, long and easy, my taste on his lips a strange but not wholly awful experience. This simple kiss put a fine finishing point on what had been a truly exceptional morning.

He took my hand and led me off again into the trees, but with what seemed like more purpose than our ambling wanderings of earlier.

“Where are we heading now?” I finally asked after some minutes of brisk walking in a straight path.

He turned to me and I saw his eyes had been relit with blazing passion. “I need you home. Now. Please, Morgan…” he begged, biting his lip. “I need you.”

“You have me, Lang, here and now already.”

He tugged at my hand and I let him pull me into an all encompassing embrace, our faces a mere hair breadth’s apart. “I know you are here, love. I just need you. In me. For completeness. I cannot…I don’t…I…”

I blinked a few times, then kissed his nose. “I don’t know how. I never want to hurt you, ever in my life.”

“I will help you, I promise, but it may not be as complete a lesson as I would like. Another day, we will discuss the minutiae, but truly, all there is to know is to listen and watch closely your partner for signs of pain, and stop and start as they ask. That is all. The act itself is no more complicated than what we did against that tree, except wth the bonus of the lack of teeth. I will ready myself for you so you need not worry about that. Please, Morgan my love, can we go now?”

I had thought myself complete and unable to be aroused for some time, but my cock had different ideas about that. I kissed him hard then said, “If that is what you wish, then let us go.”

We released our embrace and he took me once more by the hand as we both rushed though the trees to get back to his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite line in this chapter:
> 
> Even I cannot have sex every free moment. My penis would be rubbed to a nub and I’d have no brain for lack of blood flow.
> 
> ~~~~
> 
> For now, this is where we must leave our boys, enraptured with each other, rushing through the woods to get back to the Palace. They are safe and happy and fully in love. What happens next is a mystery, even to me, as this is a story I wrote long ago but never completed. I hope soon enough I'll finish our boys' story and give them some type of "happy ending". ;)


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